Dirty Laundry
by MD14
Summary: AU - Sam is UC, and meets Andy at a laundromat. Can't reveal who is, but somehow she sees underneath his mask better than any hardened criminals... and he likes it. Who knew their lives would cross paths outside of those laundromat walls.
1. Chapter 1

He was getting really sick of walking two blocks when he finally got the time to do laundry. This cover had been going on four months already, and he could live with wearing the same dirty clothes for a while... but it was getting close to harmful to his health. He's never been under so long. Just short stints with the TO's, so this is his shot.

So he caved, put on something a little less drug dealer sketchy on, and made his way out of his apartment. Passing a hand over his jaw he wonders if maybe he should've shaved. But it gives him enough of an unapproachable look that maybe it's okay. Nobody'll bother talking to him, if there's even anyone there.

When he got there it was empty, and he only had a few loads of laundry. Better get it all done tonight so he doesn't have to go back before he's done. Doesn't have to be the guy who does his laundry... with lavender softener. It was on sale, and he's supposed to be a junkie dealer. Wouldn't they be trying to save?

He didn't notice her when she first walked in to Yings Laundromat. He was pulling his darks out of the washer and shoving them into a dryer, and she was quiet at first, he didn't even turn around. But a half hour later when the humming begins, he can't help but try to give a heated glare over his shoulder. Can't go through with it when he sees her. She's, something, and it's obviously her laundry day.

She's in men's sweatpants, and a tank top, hair up in a bun with bandana or something as a headband. She's got this fresh, airbrushed face, all most. Skin of a kid it looks so smooth. Her eyes are bare, no makeup, but they still pop with this doe eyed innocence. 'Bambi' he dubs her, silently.

She catches his eye and immediately the humming stops. But she grins widely at him. Here he was trying to look intimidating...

"Sorry, thought you were listening to something." She smiles, gesturing at her ears. Her eyes move away from his to just beyond him on the washing machine, and he follows her eye to his lavender softener. Immediately he thinks she's going to ridicule him for his feminine product taste. Thing is he'd never buy this at home, on sale or not. But when she doesn't even smirk, he just really appreciates it.

"Could I actually borrow some of that?" She asks tentatively, like he'd be doing her the 'hugest favor in the whole wide world'. And when he simply nods, and passes it over, she gets a little inexplicably giddy. "Thanks, I'm such a space case and grabbed the powder detergent instead."

She's young, he's noticing. He thinks about how close he is to campus here, and then takes a look at her pile of clothes, sees a Ryerson shirt slip out. Pins her age at about twenty or twenty one. That's not so young to his twenty eight .

"How about a trade?" He asks, finally finding his voice.

She raises her eyebrows, like it's insane to prefer powdered detergent.

"Guy like me can't be going around smelling like lavender. It'd ruin my reputation." He smiles, despite being quite serious, and she smiles shyly back at him. She moves back over to where her stuff is stationed, and hands over the emptied peanut butter jar that she was using to store it, and handed it over.

He reaches behind him, and hands her the bottled detergent, touching her fingers for only a split second. And she pulls away quickly.

"Thanks." She says, going right back to her laundry. They go back to being quiet for a while. Sharing small smiles every once and a while, until all of its loaded and changed over and they're waiting for the last of it to be finished. She walks over to where he is, and hops up onto the machine across from him.

"So. What's your name?" She says, bringing her legs up to sit cross legged.

He smiles, urging himself to remember his cover name before his heart takes over his brain. He has the odd urge to be upfront with her, tell her he's a cop. Also, she probably shouldn't try to make sketchy friends in Laundromats. But then again, he's not acting sketchy... so maybe she just doesn't judge. Seriously he's painting this picture of her in his head, of all the ways she just _seems_ perfect.

"Shawn. I'm Shawn." He doesn't know if he should extend a hand to be shook, or just... just wait to hear who she might be. While he hopes to get her full name to search her up when he's done under, he also hopes she has the good sense to give a stranger a fake name.

"Andy." She says brightly, leaning forward a little more, elbows in the crease of her knees. "So what brings you to do late night laundry?"

He shrugs his shoulders, feeling a little interrogated. Probably just the paranoia of his case.

"Oh, you know, couldn't find the time between my day job and fighting crime as a vigilante." He's sure to pop the dimples a little.

"Cuuute." She drawls sarcastically. "You use that a lot don't you?"

He furrows his brow, but keeps his eyes wide at her.

"The dimples, the charm, the warm eyes. You use it a lot. Get things out of people." She's leaning back a little like she's summing him up, and suddenly he's never felt more naked. "Get what you want."

He clears his throat, wants to look less shocked. When his "boss" reacts this way to him, reading him, analyzing him, he expects that. He's been trained to be watched under a microscope by dangerous criminals. But, in a laundromat by a young woman, a young woman he's really attracted to, not so much.

"Does the job." He admits, studying her a little more carefully, trying to size her up. But she's not as easy a read. He would never have pegged her as a profiler. "What about you. What are your vices?"

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head, revealing nothing. And just the way she looks with that lip between her teeth... he wants a bite of it too.

"They're a woman's best kept secret. I don't think you've earned the right to know." She says, sliding off of the washer.

"How do I earn that right?" He asks, eyes following as she makes her way to the dryer she's been waiting on. She begins unloading an entire load of pink.

"Oh my god!" She yells, pulling it out more furiously, like if she digs deep enough she'll find her once white clothes. "No, no, no, no, no."

He walks over to her as she digs through the laundry not believing what had happened. Once it's all out on the floor, a red item makes its way into his peripheral vision, and he bends over to pick up the mystery item that dyed her clothes. What he picks up, is a red thong.

He raises his eyebrows, and meets her eyes just above the lacy pair he's holding out to her on his index finger. He lets out a low wolf whistle just as she snatches it away from him, shoving them into the deep pockets of her sweats.

He lets out a chuckle as her cheeks redden, and suddenly the cool and easy demeanor she'd been trying to sell him, he knows it's a scam.

"You know you're supposed to sort laundry, right?" He quips, knowing she knows that, all of her other piles were sorted meticulously by colour and fabric.

"Yes I know that!" She snaps back, harshly, picking it all up off the floor, and dumping it onto one of the open machines. "Shit."

"It's just clothes..."

"It's just all three of my work blouses. I'm a server, I have a shift tomorrow, and I could get sent home or fired looking like this." She runs a hand over her tied up her, and adjusts her headband after doing so.

She stares at the pile a little longer, and he looks around the place till something in the corner peeks his interest. Bleach.

"All you've got to do is soak them in water and a little bit of oxygen- based bleach." He says, already grabbing it for her.

"Oh, thanks Martha Stewart." She says condescendingly. The intriguing, sexy quality about her he'd seen before has basically just evaporated at her snatching the bottle away from him.

He backs up and heads over to his machine that beeped a few minutes ago. His resolve to stick around with her as long as he could slipped away with her attitude.

He swung the dryer door open hard, and grabbed his stuff from his machine, throwing it into a laundry bag. As soon as she stopped and took deep breath, she looked back over his way and watched as he'd gotten frustrated at her. Thing is, she kind of liked him. Other thing was she didn't know why. He was hot in that rough trade kind of way. Like, rugged. Not like the preppy kids in her classes.

And he didn't get defensive when she told him what she saw. He knew who he was, and he was confident in himself. She liked confidence, maybe a little cocky. He was those things without the arrogance of most men, and it was deadly when she considered he had dimples to throw in with them. Even now, watching his jaw set in his cheek, those muscles pop, she found him deadly. And not because he was trying to be intimidating.

"Shawn," She says softly, realizing she's got to apologize. When he doesn't even turn around (doesn't register that that's his name) she says it again, a little louder. "Shawn!"

He finally turns to her, looking a little embarrassed that he'd forgotten about his cover.

"I'm sorry, that was, bratty. I don't know what that was. I shouldn't have snapped, you were trying to help."

Her posture was open, his closed off. Her voice was sincere, his eyes were still a little narrowed. But he took a couple of beats before answering, trying to find the courage to admit that he was childish too.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have... I don't know, I'm just sorry too."

It occurs to her that he's not really one to admit when he's wrong. He doesn't have a lot to say he's sorry for, maybe. Maybe he's used to getting it right, saying the right things.

"I just, maybe next week you can bring me a coffee, make it up to me." He smiles, popping his dimples one last time, ironically of course.

She can't help but smile back, bites her lip a little as a pink blush sweeps over her cheeks.

"Coffee? At this time of night?" She asks, looking outside at the dark streets. He checks the clock on the wall just behind her, and realizes it's close to 11PM. He nods anyways. He'd be sleeping well into the morning anyways.

She slides on a hoodie, then a denim jacket, and fixes its collar, before letting her hands fall to her side.

"Then I guess we have a standing laundry date." She smiles, putting her folded laundry into the basket , and holding it against her hip. She gave him a once over again, shamelessly, and backed her way up toward the door, offering a small wave.

"You don't think you're walking home alone do you?" He asks, smiling still.

"I live around the corner. I'll flash my lights inside when I'm in safe and sound Dad." She teased, before slipping out the door.

* * *

A few minutes later he found himself standing on her block, watching her lights turning on and off. A moment later she appeared in the window, and waved to him again, still with the lip between her teeth. That's her vice. And he'd tell her that, next week.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, this is a little slow moving, updates will be scarce and not to a schedule of any kind... so... sorry, but nothing can change that.**

* * *

Next week, as promised, Andy shows up with a black coffee and a couple of packets of sugar and small plastic container of cream, unsure of how he takes it.

She's there first, on sitting on top of the washers at the back, already has her load going. Basically _had_ to go out for a run every day to have something to wash.

It's 10pm, the time she arrived the last time, and she knows it's weird to be expecting him there first, but she does. Puts his coffee _in_ the machine he was using last time, thinks he'll appreciate the quirk, and the chase. Definitely seemed like a guy who would enjoy the chase.

She thinks about how he checked to make sure she was safe when she left last week. All the times she looked out her window the past seven days, half hoping he would be standing there, big smug grin on his face. Or maybe even that glare or smirk he wears equally well.

She's smiling to herself when the door chimes and he walks in, laundry bag in tow.

He notices that this week she's dressed a little less like she was expecting to be alone. He sees a little makeup on her eyes, that are giving her hazel doe eyes a smoldering edge. If he hadn't found her sexy before, well she was drop dead now. And she wasn't even trying. She's still looking laid back, capri jeans, green tank top, white cardigan and Keds. Her hair is down this time, waves falling just past her shoulders.

"Hey." She smiles, a little more purposefully, and for him. And he can't help but return it.

"Hey. Where's that coffee?" He asks, eyes scanning her set up she's got going in the back corner.

She hops off the washer, and crosses her arms across her chest, popping her hip a little.

"You can have it if you can find it." She says, arching an eyebrow in his directing, declaring this a challenge.

His tongue meets the inside of his cheek as he suppresses a grin, already walking over to the washer he'd occupied the first time they met.

Rookie mistake she made there. She was trying to build a bridge, some kind of bond, unknowingly, and it was 100 level psychology knowing she put somewhere he'd have a chance of finding it. That was her purpose.

She watches on, face growing more and more disappointed the closer he gets. When he reaches in and grabs the cup itself, without any of the extras, she kind of feels like she knew he'd be the type to take it black. All a part of that manly man vibe he worked effortlessly at putting together.

"Thanks." He says, wearing a shit eating grin, before taking a sip.

"Might be a little cold." She says passively, "You're a little late."

He smiles big at her.

"You miss me or something?" He says, smiling wider as her cheeks go a little red. And then that bottom lip gets up under her teeth, and he lets his smile fall just a little, captivated by her. That damn vice of hers.

"Nope. Just don't like wasting my money on someone else's cold coffee." She recovers quickly tonight, obviously a little more ready to battle his charms with her wit. He likes a challenge.

"Well I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you next week. Bring you coffee _and_ a pastry next week." He smiles, trying to get her back on his good graces.

She looks at him, pulls her washer door open and nods. He watches her pull out her clothes and throw them into the dryer.

"Wait!" He yells, when she's about to push her quarters into the slot, causing her to jump a little.

"What?" She says, loudly, after yanking her hand away like it was about to be burned.

"Did you sort em?" He asks, completely serious. If she were to say no, they'd have a national disaster on their hands.

"Shut up." She scoffs, trying to hold in the laugh he's caused. He's on his game tonight. She's used up all her curve balls to throw last week.

They silently go on with their loads, her change over, him getting his washer started, and then soon enough they're sitting on washers opposite one another.

"So I figured out what your vice is." He says confidently, catching her interest immediately.

"What? I only have one?"

"One that I know of. But according to you a woman is a secretive and complex being, so I guess I'll just have to wait them out." He says, unable to keep from this impossibly large grin. She smiles back, genuinely, for the second time since he walked in ten minutes ago, and already weaseled his way onto her good graces. "You bite your bottom lip. All the time."

She's doing it as he tells her, and immediately releases it, then runs a hand through her hair, thinking he's paying more attention than he lets on.

* * *

"As much as I love coffee and pastries, I don't think I need to be doing my laundry every week." She says when they're finally unloading the last of their dried clothes, not actually willing to admit she had dirtied some of what she brought tonight intentionally.

He nods in agreement. He was down washing his sheets. Druggies, they don't do that. They don't check the shitty drapes in their apartment to see if they can be machine washed, but that's what Sam's been resorting to. Here's his opening though. He can't keep doing laundry _every_ week either. Doesn't want to give up on seeing her though. He likes this, the whole slow and steady flirtation they've got going.

"Maybe then we focus on the coffee and pastries, and forget the laundry."

It's the first time that she can't see the confidence and swagger he usually carries. He sounds like maybe he's unsure that he should even be asking this, but he is. She feels like she's the one holding the cards, balls in her court, it's her move.

"We could do that." She smiles back. "Just, maybe not quite so late."

He nods in agreement, he was almost late getting to a buy today, would've meant big trouble for him with both his UC boss and his handler. Made it barely in the nick of time.

"How about Tuesday, the place around the corner from your apartment. What's it called?"

"Ceecee's." She replies, in awe that he was so aware of her neighborhood. But then again, this being a neighborhood Laundromat, he must live nearby too.

"Yeah, Ceecee's at 4." He says, setting it in stone.

* * *

They were both folding the last of their laundry, he's been done for twenty minutes, he only had some sheets to wash, but, he drew out the process, sure to be walking her home tonight.

She's off on some story about one of her old professors who used to talk with a lisp... had quite the spitting problem. Seating was alphabetical, and somehow, Andy wound up front and center.

"I wore my rain jacket to every lecture. Guy never got the clue. It was disgusting." She laughs in response to Sam's large grin. He could listen to her stories for ages. She had a tendency to get off track, but once he steered her in the right direction, it was always worth it.

The animation in her voice, her weak imitations, and the way she used her hands when she spoke... she had his full and undivided attention.

"So what is it exactly that you're studying?" He asks, deciding he really needs to know more about her. About her age too. Knows she's not young enough that its creepy, but he'd hate to really be robbing the cradle.

"Sociology major, criminology minor." She says, sheepishly for some reason. His eyebrows go up, only slightly in surprise, but mostly in understanding. That's how she could read him. He wasn't imagining things, the instincts were there.

But clearly she hadn't picked up on the fact that he was 5-0, so, not _that_ good.

"How long till you graduate?"

"Couple months. I can't believe it's almost over. Then straight into the academy, I hope."

"The academy... ?" He asks, playing dumb. Of course he knows she's referring to the police academy, with _that_ degree.

"Police. I never really used to think about it, but... I don't know, my dad was a cop." She doesn't elaborate much after that. Let's that be everything she says.

Talking about her dad is harder these days. He was 'asked' to retire two years ago when his drinking started to interfere with work. It had been affecting him long before then, but as long as it stayed in the family, it was like they could both just ignore it.

Then after he retired, it got worse. Without somewhere to go, something to do, it just meant he spent more time with the bottle.

So she gave him an ultimatum. He still hasn't called.

"So..." He says, hoping to prompt her, get her to give away a little more. "You uh, want to carry on the family legacy?"

She snorts in response.

"More like clean up the name. It wasn't exactly a silver watch exit." She mutters, not even paying attention to her tone or words. She doesn't really realize that this is the first time in a while that she's revealing this plan.

Hasn't told her friends yet, hasn't even mentioned that her dad was a detective. It doesn't matter how long it's been, it still embarrasses her. The embarrassment makes her feel guilty. He makes her feel guilty...

"It's not your job to clean up after him." He says, simply, but he had no idea. He had no idea how good a man Tommy McNally once was... still was. On a good day.

"It is though. He's the only family I have."

He nods absently, thinking of his own family. Just him and his sister. God knows he'd do anything for her...

"I guess I understand that." He says, deciding that he can only respect her more for sticking by her father, despite the affect its had on her life.

"Bet your parents aren't that much of a mess." She says, dreamily, folding her laundry, still, but staring off at the back wall.

Sam can't help the snort that escapes, and then she snaps out of her daze, looking off towards him.

She doesn't ask, or say anything, is the thing he appreciates. He already knows that its in her nature to be curious, to dig for information. But she seems to battle with herself over whether or not she ask, or apologize, or shut up. And her effort to be polite is enough to make him _want_ to tell her.

"I, uh... I didn't know them. They died before my first birthday." He says, trying to keep it as light as one can. But the topic isn't exactly 'I'm an orange juice kind of guy' light. He says it with enough diligence that he can express he's sad, but that he wants to push past it. "But I've got a sister."

"Oh yeah?" She asks, smiling back at him, trying to show him she gets the message... they're moving on. "Why don't you do your laundry at _her_ place?" She laughs.

Sam smiles back at her and shakes his head, pulling out his last sheet, and passing one end to her. She drops her shirt, and moves with her to the middle of the room to help him fold it.

"She lives in St. Catherines. So, it's a long way to go without a car, just for laundry." He smirks, thinking about Sarah was hard at times like this. Undercover. She's worry about him too much. "Besides, then I wouldn't get free coffee."

He smiled and shook the sheet out, before taking slow steps to her to grab her end, and finish folding it. Once again, brushing her hand, he feels the goose bumps that form on her wrist, feels just how smooth she is.

She reacts immediately to his touch. The calloused fingers, their size, the way it slipped on top of hers protectively, instinctively.

It lasts only a moment in reality, but to them, its longer. It's more.

She drops her hand eventually and goes back to putting her folded laundry into her basket. He takes a minute before resuming his place at his dryer top. Takes a minute to watch the blush on her neck never quite reach her face.

Tonight he walks her home. They don't talk about it, they just keep talking and he follows her out, unknowingly. Her laugh is great like that. He just forgets about everything. He's convinced by the time they get to her building that he'd follow her anywhere if she just kept laughing and smiling.

"You want me to walk you up?" He asks, knowing that he knows more of the creeps in the area than she does, and is probably hyper sensitive about the possibilities of what could happen to her. Mix of Sarah and... he just knows what could happen between here and her fourth floor door.

But her dad was a cop. She's smart. So when she says no, and goes up, he lets her.

* * *

She slides her key into the rusty lock a minute later, laundry basket on her hip, smiles still on her lips.

He was funny, she noticed this time. Not just sarcastic, or corny, but clever, a little witty. She'd bet he does the crossword, the Sunday one, the hard ones.

When she finally gets both of her locks opened, she turns the knob and takes a step inside her chilly apartment. Heat's expensive, so she makes a habit of keeping it down, and layering up.

She tosses her keys on her table next to the door. Regrets not taking the time to check her mailbox... but Shawn has a way of making her forget things.

"Babe?" A voice calls from her bedroom. Andy nearly loses her grip on her basket when she hears it.

"Jace?" She calls back after a moment, realizing no intruder would call out to her that way, or in her boyfriends voice.

He comes out of her bedroom, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. He's still fully clothed, obviously passed out waiting on her.

"You coming to bed soon?" He asks, leaning against the door jamb.

She still trying to catch her breath, actually, and can't really answer him with words. She takes a deep breath before nodding.

"I thought you were working."

"Carlos took my shift." He says, shrugging.

He moves out of the doorway and back into her bedroom, and she moves further into her apartment and drops the basket on the couch.

Things were going to get complicated... and soon.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: To clarify, Jace (Jason) is NOT a live-in boyfriend. He has a key. I really shouldn't write when I'm so tired.. better yet, I should learn my lesson and edit the frigging thing...

Anyways, life goes on...

* * *

Sam Swarek was anxious.

He doesn't get that way, you see, it's his job to keep cool, stay calm and assess. Kind of like a driving instructor: See, think, do. But his thoughts are wandering off the charts tonight, and Kevin knows it.

Kevin Goose Keeley. Distributor, Sam's partner.

Took him months to get Brennan's trust let alone Keeley's, and now that he'd finally been promoted, he had a lot less worry about being noticed on the streets. He did however have to be convincing about his using habits. That was probably the greatest challenge.

So anyway, he's anxious.

The more he thinks about Andy, and the situation he's in now, the guiltier he feels.

And tonight, they're doing a buy with some of the dealers Brennan's used to doing business with. Brennan's weird this way though. These dealers aren't your typical junkies that are used to hookers and dive bars on a Friday night.

Most of em actually look pretty clean, for below the poverty line. A few of them have sleeves, but the one thing they all have in common are families. These are the few dads in the neighborhood that have stuck around for the mothers of their children, and do their part.

Some of his other guys are a little more seedy, guys in it only for the money, but Brennan's got a lot of product to move, they can't all have hearts of gold.

Sam respects that... as odd as it is to respect drug thugs.

There's another reason he's not cut out for this. At times he forgets what he's there doing, and can see himself actually liking these guys under other circumstances. Scares him, but there not all bad guys.

Keeley managed to finish up with the guys while Sam's mind is out of commission. Strike one.

"What's up with you?" He says once he's done giving Carlos a stern talking to. "Huh? The guys aren't exactly intimidated when your heads a thousand miles away Gates!"

Sam knows better than to tell his partner that 'There's this girl...'

Keeley may have a family and a woman he loves, but it doesn't make him Oliver Shaw. Man, he did miss Shaw though. If he could see him now, tripping all over himself to meet up with a college girl at some hokey, hipster coffee place.

And, uh, it's _not_ a date. It's just a coffee. His mantra.

Oliver maybe covered in Maddie's baby drool, but the man would find a way to watch on.

"I dunno, man, sorry." He says lamely, not very apologetic. Keeley isn't a sharer, so he doesn't need to tell the guy his life's story. Just has to do what he's told, and keep to himself.

"Get it together man, couple of months till Brennan sells off the rest to the big guy." Keeley snaps, getting their shit together so they can close up the warehouse for the night, go home. "Hill's guy was supposed to show tonight, but he sends us Carlos. This is such bullshit."

Sam doesn't know much about the guy yet, his handler still has a lot to go over with him, but Hill's a bigger fish than Jamie, and if he can put things off a little longer, get Hill, his career would set off.

"Lock up. I have to get home." Keeley says, tossing Sam the keys.

And like Sam wanted, he's alone, with just his thoughts.

* * *

"And! I'm headed out to work. You sure you don't need a ride?" Jason calls from her kitchen. She tried to stay "sleeping" in her bed until he absolutely had to leave for work, but she's an early riser. Always has been. He knew that well enough. Not to mention that he doesn't leave until 4pm, and that's when she has to meet Shawn... bottom line is Andy has no idea how to have a lazy day in bed. She also can't afford the luxury.

"I'm just going around the corner." She says, finally pulling the duvet from her body, having gone back to bed for a 'nap' in the afternoon, letting the icy air from the window greet her freshly shaved, and goose bumped legs.

She reaches for her jeans that were sitting in a heap of clothes by her mirror. She spent a little more time getting dressed for her day than usual yesterday. It was a long one after all. Class, errands, appointments, laundry dates...

She opens the top drawer of her dresser and throws her shirts around aimlessly before going for her old standby, the one she knew she'd choose all along. It's a looser, lighter black shirt, and her favorite in the spring, but if she threw on a decent jacket and a necklace, it could be good enough for a coffee date - meeting. Hangout?

"You could walk me down to the car." Jason says, standing in her doorway, watching her stretch the fabric over her head, and adjust where it falls over her body.

She nods, and manages a small smile in his direction, but he can tell it's forced.

"Why are you going to CeeCee's again?" He asks, watching her walk to her desk and shove some books into her bag.

"Just wanted to work on my paper down there." She lies, unplugging her laptop and putting it in there too. "You working at the hotel tonight?"

That was Jace's glamorous job to pay off his loans, night concierge at the Edinborough, and during the days he worked on campus at the book store. He mentioned a couple weeks ago that he might pick up an odd job in construction... _something_ about construction. They hardly saw each other anymore. Been drifting for a while, and she knows it's been a long time coming that they have to talk. But they just got to that place. They were secure, dependant, familiar. It would shake their lives up too much right now to call it off.

At the time it seemed easier to say that then explain that she was having coffee with a friend. A friend like Shawn.

Jason tends to be the possessive type, and it was hard for him to watch her interact with any of her male friends, but the more attractive they were, the harder it was. The more hell he gave her.

She shrugged her jacket on over her shoulders, and picked up her book bag. One last look around the room, and they left.

* * *

He gets to the place around the corner from her apartment early. Figures it might humor her a little. Gets in line for her coffee and everything before he realizes, he doesn't know what she drinks. Figures he can do the minimum and buy her an apple flip. Can't go wrong with apple flips.

Sam takes a table by the window, where the sofa is vacant for once, and waits. He takes in the cafe, he's been here before but has definitely never taken the time to sit. It's usually packed with students, and hipsters, working on assignments, or reading poetry, or whatever the hell it is college kids do these days. But it's never been his scene, can't imagine it's hers either actually.

He doesn't notice his leg bouncing until he hears her laugh come from the window next to him, and as he turns to smile at her in return, he notices that she's not alone. In fact, she's walking hand in hand with some guy down the side walk.

For a second, cop mode kicks in and he makes sure to study the guys face. He can't tell if its training on autopilot or if he's just assessing threat level. But the man is fairly attractive, sandy brown hair, lighter than hers. Big green eyes, and a strong jaw, perfectly sculpted eyebrows that make him want to snort. Definitely can't be natural.

But then they stop in front of a black car, and he leans over to kiss her goodbye, and she takes it to the cheek, looking down at her feet. The guy is obviously bothered by it, but says nothing and opens the car door, and pulls away from the curb.

What's bothering Sam, is that those eyes feel familiar.

Sam keeps a trained eye on Andy's face though, she blows out a huff, and tucks two strands of hair behind her ear, before shaking it off, and walking farther down the street to the entrance.

He tries to find something sitting on the table in front of him that could have had him consumed the entire time that was playing out on the streets, and settles for yesterdays paper - the sports section.

"Hey." She says, while he's still trying to engross himself in the text. He hears her first, and when he finally looks up he takes in the pink on her nose, and in her cheeks. No doubt from the blistery wind outside.

Her smile seems genuine though, like whatever just happened, she's putting it behind her for the moment. Maybe she compartmentalizes like him.

"Hi." He smiles, as big as he can manage, but unfortunately it's not even a full grin, and the light doesn't reach his eyes. What's worse, is she notices.

"Everything okay?" She asks, laughing a little, first time seeing him at a loss for words.

He doesn't know where he musters it, but he lets his dimples dig deeper, and more of his teeth show.

"Yeah, yeah. You know, long day." He says, waving it off, and watches the tension leave her shoulders. "Apple flip?"

She smiles just as big as he does, and gives him an inquiring look, like he must've done some digging to find out they were her favorite.

"Of course." She says, putting her bag down on the floor, and taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"Coffee?" He asks, gesturing toward the line that was starting to thicken. She nods, and is about to stand up with him when he puts his hand on her knee to keep her in her seat. "How do you like it?"

Any way you want it, she _nearly_ says. His hand on her leg is more than distracting.

"No sugar, lots of milk, extra hot." She smiles, surprised that he's going to spring for the coffee too. It's not a date after all, she was thinking it'd be dutch. She'd definitely feel better about it, though she got the coffee last time.

He moves to the lineup, leaving her alone on the couch for a minute, taking in how busy it was, and maybe how they should have planned to meet earlier, but she had class, and he probably had to work. Not that she even knows what he does, which is odd considering all the meaningless crap she _does_ know.

Andy lets her eyes settle on a group of kids who are plaid clad, and have their signature ray-ban eyeglasses on, sitting in the corner, talking un-animatedly about whatever book lay in front of them and she lets out a snort.

This wasn't her favorite place to be, but they had some of the best cheesecake brownies around, and their apple flips were her favorites.

And Shawn had gotten her one.

She takes a small bite off the end, now smiling aimlessly at the hipsters she'd taken to mocking, just in time for Sam to return with her perfect steaming cup of coffee.

* * *

"I do not." She insists.

"You do."

"I don't." Andy whines, smiling despite herself, giving Sam a light smack on the shoulder.

"I swear you do, every single time I've mentioned it, you cringe."

"Okay, well I'm sorry, but it's not exactly easy." She mumbles, taking the last sip of her coffee.

"You want to be a cop, you'd better get used to that." He teases, throwing the last half of his apple flip onto her plate.

She's got her feet tucked up under her, and her elbow resting on the couch back, now supporting her head. He's leaning back against his arm of the couch, and even though they're in public he can't help but want to reach for her feet and throw her feet across his lap, rub her calf. Just feel her skin.

"I know, but I'm not there yet okay. So save your 'Officers' for someone with a gun buddy." She says, taking a bite out of the rest of the apple flip he had generously given her.

"You'd make a really good cop." He says, watching her devour what's left of what he gave her. "You've got the people skills."

She smiles, a bit of a blush taking over her cheeks, but she gets it back under control quickly. "Oh yeah? What else have I got?"

"You're persistent. A little stubborn, but that's probably good." He laughs at her mock hurt, but knows there's an endless list to get to. "You pick up on the little things. Observant."

"Sounds like I'm not the only one..." She mutters, just loud enough that he hears it.

He can't help but smile.

"C'mon, you'll get into the academy, don't worry so much." He says nonchalantly, the way only he can.

She nods, not quite believing it, she won't until she's got the acceptance in her hands, but something about him does sooth her, does keep something wild inside of her at bay.

"And what about you, what do you do?" She says, blindsiding him a little.

He's not fickle, but he really hadn't thought about covering his own ass. He's so much himself when he's with her that he can forget the circumstances under which they met. He's a drug dealer - distributor.

Brennan's cover business is a construction rental business. That's all he's got.

"Nothing as interesting as studying." He says, first trying to see if he can avoid the lie. And all though it earns him a small smile, she keeps her eyebrow perched a little high on her forehead. "Construction rentals. It's seriously not as fun as studying..."

She smiles, assures him that's not true at all, and goes off on a tangent about her last exam, and how finals are going to kick her ass.

* * *

"So...are you seeing anyone?" She pipes up after just having come back with the second round of coffees.

He smirks, knowing that this is obviously the part where she tells him about her guy. He doesn't want to know, but he has a feeling it's more about her wanting to talk. She was talkative, Andy was.

"Uh, no. I haven't been around that long yet. What about you?" Sam asks, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

"Yeah, I am." She says softly, as if expecting him to be mad. If there was one thing she was sure of it was that her attraction, her pull to him wasn't one sided, even though she hadn't quite figured out what it was.

He waits for some kind of follow up, but nothing comes from her, she stirs the already settled and circulated milk into the coffee mug.

"Okay, and how's that going? What's he like?"

"It's, fine. He's great." She says shortly, like that was all she'd ever planned on saying.

Sam grins at her determined facade. But he's a cop, it's his job to know when the conversation is done. It's usually when he wants to end it, but she's got him. She's the one he could listen to until she was alright.

"You've got but face." He says matter of factly.

She smiles a little, wants to make a comment about him liking her face... but she has to keep the flirting to the minimum, because it's not fair to either of them. And it's not helping her want to work on things with Jason.

"But... we're growing apart, and life's messy, and whatever." She sounds like the moment she starts speaking she changes her mind about letting him in, all the way.

"He pulling away, or you?" Sam says, going right to the point. He doesn't exactly need to know the gory details. He'd rather she confess right now that it isn't working at all, that she doesn't care if it does.

But she trusts him with this. And he's known her a shorter time than some criminals he's interrogated. It means something to him. It's got to mean something to her. He already knows she isn't an open book. It's part of their understanding one another.

"I guess both. We're just drifting. I have school, he works too much..." She says as an afterthought.

"What does he do?" Sam says, feeling more like the therapist when she sinks further into the couch, leans her head up to the ceiling.

"Pft, well Dr. Shawn... what doesn't he do?" She jokes, once again trying to steer away from the discussion again. "He just, it doesn't matter, he's just taking more on."

"But it's been worse lately?"

She nods, tilting her head his way, and then letting her eyes drop to the floor. She lets out a frustrated breath and runs one hand through her hair, refocusing her energy.

"I don't want to talk about this. Okay, it's just, frustrating, and we need to talk about stuff. And it's not exactly the best sign in the universe that I'm discussing it with another guy." She huffs, putting her mug to her lips and taking the very little bit that's left in the cup. "And I'm also a little humiliated that I've been talking about it for this long already."

"Hey, what are friends for?" His smile is sarcastic, and she knows it. How could she not? But he's the first person she's felt secure about opening up to in a while. She can say anything without consequence. He could never show up to the laundromat again and she'd get over that... eventually. She knows there's more to him that what he'll let her see. And one day, she wants to be able to make him share things with her. But she comes back to the same question.

What does it mean?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, I know I neglected this story for a little while, and now I've just begun another multi... which probably wasn't the brightest idea... but oh well. My plan is to alternate between them, so, it's not like updates were frequent before, but they might dwindle even more now. Sorry about that. Read, review, and enjoy :)**

* * *

"Stop biting your nails." Sam says, looking at where Andy is perched on top of the active dryer. That's the most common place for her to seat herself at the laundromat, says she finds the vibrations soothing and a little therapeutic. How she can read at the same time though he'll never know. Then again, he was prone to motion sickness.

She peeks up from her textbook, eyebrow arched, stare mean, not appreciating that she was under a microscope with him. She did tell him he'd never find all her vices. Yeah, she kind of regrets it.

"Stop chewing gum." She says, mocking tone, squinted eyes. "What're you tryin to quit smoking or something?"

She's not wrong. He quit cold turkey six months ago, and being under, in a warehouse... a lot of those guys smoke. It's basically killing him. But the gum helps. He chews a lot of gum.

He grins at her though, won't fuel the mood she's got going tonight.

It's been a few weeks since they met in this very place, and had gone back to their late night laundry routine, once every two weeks though. Sometimes he'd meet her for a bite to eat at the pizzeria close to the campus - they decided that Ceecee's wasn't either of their scenes.

She'd been tempted to ask him to that bar her dad used to go to after work, but it seemed like it would border on date-like, and it would be a different atmosphere all together. They were safe here, there were distinct boundaries, and it was easy for both of them. Things were casual, cause, you know - they're just friends.

"When is it?" He asks, finally stopping her from reading the same sentence for the eighth time. He might've been right when he said she'd have trouble reading up on top of the dryer.

"When's what?" She replies, trying to tone down her annoyance, but finding it very trying.

"Your test." He says, as if that should've been obvious. She didn't tell him about her exam... Of course, he was aware that the last of finals are wrapping up.

That was another thing that was starting to get under her skin. His little mind games. How he would just read her and then explain it back to her as if she didn't understand her own life. Who does that?

Okay, she may be aware of how unfair she's being. But it hasn't been the best of days either...

He notices her shoulders relax a little, and she puts her textbook down next to her, obviously trying to reign in the 'tude she's been giving off all evening. And by the time she's poised herself enough to answer, the machine dings, and stops vibrating.

Just. After. She. Put. The. Book. Down.

She thought she might scream.

"Andy, just take a breath." Sam says before she can grab her book and huck it across the room. "You really need to relax."

He's trying not to laugh at her, and the fact that she's struggling has his eyes turned down. Overall he hopes he _looks_ like he's being sympathetic, because he thinks if one more thing goes wrong, she'll call it a night.

There are a couple of other people here tonight, for once, set up towards the front. So they're a little less spread out, and quieter. As quiet as they can be, Andy's growling isn't really helping. But she's trying.

"Sorry." She huffs, hopping from the machine, bringing the book with her to toss into her bag. "It's in two days, and it's the last one. I just really can't afford to take this lightly."

"Go home." He says, not without regret, but she really hasn't been a ray of sunshine anyway. "Have a hot shower and go to bed early. You'll fry your brain if you keep at it."

Andy takes a minute to stare at her bag, and the already clean clothes she's got piled in her basket, and then back to her last load that just finished drying. He watches her sigh, and open the dryer, and grab an armful of laundry before tossing it into the top of the basket, unfolded.

"You're right." She says, not really wanting to leave, but definitely ready to go to bed. "I'll talk to you after the exam."

He laughs, thankful that she won't resort to using him as her stress ball anymore. And doesn't even watch the string of words that fly out of his mouth.

"We'll go out for a drink and celebrate."

She stops the motion of throwing her bag over her shoulder midway, and stares at the back of his head, while he continues to fold his black t-shirts, and smiles, just small. Well, she didn't propose it, so that's okay...

"I know the perfect place." She says from behind him, and he turns to give her the smallest of smiles. "Night Shawn."

And that takes him back a little, every time. He's fine when he's at the warehouse, or at the office, because that's who he becomes. But not here. It's where he escapes. It's where he's himself.

* * *

Tonight he's more focused in front of the guys, but Keeley takes the lead anyway, as always. He stands behind him on the wood pallets, but stays quiet, studies the crowd, eyes open for Hill's guy, but he just sees the same crew as two weeks ago. And then one of the docking doors rose, and everyone froze for a beat, before drawing their guns.

That's when Sam remembered where he'd seen those eyes before. Case file.

Jason Duchamp, 26, Anton Hill's nephew, and the one running things on the streets.

He'd never struggled so hard with his cover than he did in that instant. Running around lying to Andy, letting her think he's decent, and hard working.

But, what if she knew? He doubted she did, that she could ever be with someone on that side of the law, her dad is Tommy McNally.

(At first he didn't put two and two together, but he definitely remembered him having a daughter named Andy. Had a photo on his desk all those years.)

His mind is reeling quite frankly, and it's all he can do to just stay where he is. No control left in his jaw that is tightly clenched, and fists that are curling into fists.

"Bout bloody fucking time!" Keeley yells, frustrated. The guy was supposed to be moving this case along, and not showing two weeks ago really screwed with Sam's timeline. But the longer he was Shawn, the longer he could put off telling Andy he'd lied to her.

But then again, right now his instinct is to leave and head straight for her apartment, tell her what a gem of a boyfriend she keeps for company.

"Sorry man, got held up." He says, moving through the crowd towards them. Sam knows he didn't spot him when he was with Andy in the streets, and still he's gauging his face for a reaction, a flash of recognition. "Jason Duchamp."

The guys right in front of Sam now, hand extended. He can't smile or say anything in response without a growl ripping from his throat, so he goes for a removed approach. Shakes his hand, makes brief eye contact before looking away like he doesn't give a crap and this guy is the biggest inconvenience.

"That's my partner, Shawn Gates." Keeley says shortly, more outwardly frustrated with the guys sense, or lack of sense, of propriety.

"Alright carry on." He says, gesturing to the group of confused dealers standing before them.

* * *

Later, in Brennan's office, four men are gathered. Keeley, Sam, Duchamp, and Brennan himself. Brennan hadn't been too thrilled to hear that Duchamp decided he didn't need to show last time, and made it very clear to Anton that he runs a tight ship, and though he wants his business, he thinks a partnership would benefit everybody, he doesn't do flaky.

Brennan was in a tough position here in this deal. If he goes into business with Hill, he's giving up a little control, and basically Hill owns anyone working for Brennan. It's a trade of hands that Sam needs to see through though, in order to get them all.

So Brennan's resistance, as well as Keeley's, towards Duchamp, was killing all of Sam's plans. As much as it was the last thing he wanted to do...

"Boss, it's a good deal." He finds himself saying after Jason's laid out the plan.

Brennan relinquishes this whole warehouse and front business, and let's Brennan go off and run the clean end of things, the _real_ business, while Jason runs the rest. And Brennan still gets a 25% cut of Hill's profits out of this end.

It's generous, and Sam's supposed to be paying great attention to detail here, but his mind just goes off to how Andy had failed to answer him when he asked what Jason did. He knew there was an age gap, he'd already graduated, but he's been in training to take after his uncle for awhile now...

Jason shoots him a tamped down grin, and nod, and Sam feels a little sick. It's not just heroin Hill will start running through here.

"Alright Duchamp. You can tell Hill I'll meet with him. Boys, go on home." He says, directly to Sam and Kevin.

They both bow out while the other two continue to hammer out details. He's seeing Andy tomorrow. They'll talk tomorrow.

* * *

"So how far is this place you're dragging me?" He asks, just a couple of paces behind her once they step out on to the street from her apartment building.

She basically bounded out and tackled him when he buzzed her apartment. She's got this ridiculously large smile on her face, and the bags under her eyes have started to lighten. The last week was hard on her, no doubt, but she seems thrilled to be free.

"Not too far. It's called The Black Penny. You ever been?" She asks, still spinning around every street light they pass.

He just about swallows his tongue when she mentions the Penny, and thinks 'Yeah, a time or two.'

But how he's going to get them out of this, he has no idea.

"What about that place a couple of blocks from here?"

"Lucky Dingo? Isn't it kind of a hole?" She cringes, finally turning back to face him, her skirt fanning out as she does.

She looks like summer today. It is the first sunny day in a long while, but still she's embraced it to the fullest, and it's not very warm. But still, she's radiating this airy vibe about her.

And he can't help but wonder why she isn't celebrating the end of her exams with Jason.

"Don't judge a book by its cover." He huffs under his breath, his own double entendre completely missed by Andy. "It'll surprise you how good the food is."

She stops leading in the direction they'd originally taken, and makes her way closer to him. When he stays where he's standing, and just stares at her with a smile on his face she starts to get flustered and impatient, and then she begins blushing. The way he looks at her and watches her always tends to get her out of sorts, and she can't seem to do a damn thing about it.

After a couple more moments, he offers her his arm, which she takes, and they continue the opposite way down the sidewalk.

* * *

"So, Jason working tonight?" Sam asks carefully once their food has finally made its way to the table. The Lucky Dingo isn't by any means a fancy place, but it's too far down from the Penny either, and he could tell Andy was impressed when they walked in an hour ago.

She ordered a burger, which Sam is grateful for. Not one of the salad types, though obviously, judging by how fit she is, she must take care of herself most of the time. He ordered the same.

"Yeah, he's taken on a new job. He used to work at the campus bookstore, and also at a hotel. But he quit the bookstore and got fewer hours at the hotel." She says, figuring out just how to grip her burger so the whole thing doesn't fall apart. "I'll probably see him even less now."

She isn't putting much stock into what she's saying, and she's clearly trying to brush it off, but Sam can't be certain that it's because what he's doing now is shady. She probably just doesn't want to start talking about her doomed relationship again. Neither does he, but if she can provide some answers...

"Anyway, how's _your_ job going? Adjusting okay?" She asks, sincerely. He told her he hasn't been in town long, and the job is still pretty new, that he and his colleague don't always see eye to eye. He feels bad when she gives him advice that would work under real work circumstances, but it's a little too touch-y -feel-y for the drug world.

"Yeah. There's a new new guy that the guys hate more than me, so that's something." He says, wanting to dismiss that topic too. It's hard getting to know someone when he can't really say anything about himself in return... not that he would if this were even regular circumstances, but he'd be able to give her something. And it wouldn't be a complete lie.

He could tell her about being a cop, about his rookie years. He could tell her about the training officers they've got now. He could tell her how great her dad is at what he does, and even though things haven't gone his way lately, he's a good man.

He could've let her take him to the Penny. Could've told Oliver that he's actually starting to feel something more, for once. He could, if things were different.

"That's... something." She says in agreement, giving up on finding a better word.

"How's being freed from the shackles of your desk?" He grins, wandering back into safe territory.

She smiles, and he knows he's struck the sweet spot. This'll keep them on something else for a while. Now he can just watch her talk and smile and throw her hands around when she tells stories. Watch her get really passionate about the future she's chosen for herself. For a brief moment, he wonders if maybe one day, she'll end up at fifteen...


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Came home from work and just... wrote the whole thing. It's two AM, so I am not 100% coherent. Sorry if there's a pile of mistakes, or repetition.**

**AND to those who nominated this, or any other work of mine for the Rookie Blue Choice Awards, I'm so grateful and happy that you all take the time to read the things I write. It's nice to be recognized and appreciate it, and I love doing it. Thank you!**

* * *

So, Andy's a runner is something he learns within the next couple weeks of casual hanging out.

(He's considered just dropping off her radar, not answering her calls, finding a new laundromat - but he convinces himself that they live to close. That she'd probably bump into him eventually. That he's in a better position now to protect her from Jason, because he's convinced he'll drag her down.

That maybe, there're already enough bullet holes in that relationship that'll it'll die on its own. That she'll figure out that there's better for her. He's better for her.)

She called him up that morning to tell him to meet her at her place in thirty minutes, in his runners and shorts, and they were going for a run.

So he did.

He put up a little resistance, but like they both knew he would be, he was there.

"Okay, I usually do seven kilometers, think you can keep up?" She asks, truly concerned that he's not as fit as his muscle definition portrays. And yeah, he's been under a couple months now, and he _can_ feel some of his stamina suffering, but, he doubts he'll fall behind her.

He smirks in the end.

"Sweetheart, I think I can manage." She gives him an arched eyebrow upon hearing the faint drip of condescension on the otherwise sweet term of endearment, and decides maybe she'll up her pace.

"Well alright then." She laughs, stepping into her run, not even bothering to let him know they were starting now.

He takes a couple of seconds to watch her, smiles and follows.

It's sunny today, and the light reflecting on the lake makes it look like sparkles, and he can't help but feel like he's become a little whipped in the weeks that he's known her. Seriously, when did he become this guy?

Buying her apple flips and coffees, indulging her in her weird outings, doing laundry far more than he should for his cover, taking her out for drinks. Not to mention risking the entire UC with unnecessary socializing. And despite all of it, he doesn't regret a second.

She keeps her lead of a few feet, and for the first twenty minutes of their run, she's feeling pretty smug about it. She knew she was a good runner, but his cocky attitude made her want to leave him in the dust. It's in the third kilometer that she realizes he's got too big a smile, and decides maybe, despite how out of breath it makes her, she should talk to him.

"Gorgeous day." She huffs, dropping back to where he is.

"Yep." He says simply, feeling a monosyllabic edge today.

"Lake looks great. Nice view."

She hears him grunt out a laugh, like he couldn't restrain it with every other part of his body working.

"Yeah, I _had_ a great view too." He mutters, smiling.

McNally _does_ have a great ass. But it's not just that, she's got a great everything. Physically, and beyond. She's more than just something to look at, though that is one of his favorite pass times. She's something... else, for lack of a better word.

She gets close enough to him to swing in arm into his shoulder, blushing a little, but also feeling pretty good about it. Something about the way he looks at her sometimes, (when he thinks she can't see - be it through a veil of hair, or whatever) just makes her feel beautiful.

"Shut up." She laughs, despite herself. "You're such an idiot."

He just grins right back.

* * *

She definitely didn't expect him to keep up as long as he did.

(Well, he's got a great body and all, but she's never heard him mention a work out part of his day. Doesn't mean it doesn't exist, but, they know each others' schedules pretty well by now.)

For five kilometers he kept up to her, even trying to quicken the pace from time to time. But around the sixth he began to beg off a little, and eventually admit that she won.

"You okay there champ?" She asks he began to stretch out his legs at the end of it.

(She didn't want to just leave him on his own, so she decided six would do it. Well... she didn't want to leave him period.)

"Shut up." He grins, bending down to touch his toes, giving _her_ quite the view...

"I'm just saying if you need me to drive you to your chiropractor-"

"I do not have a chiropractor."

"Fascinating. I thought it was something all golden oldies had." She smirks, taking a long drink from her water bottle.

"Andy, I'm 32, not exactly ancient." He says, rising from his bent position, feeling a bit of pain in his lower back. But seriously, his cover apartments bed is awful.

"Not exactly, but you run like you are." Andy laughs, rubbing her athleticism in his face.

"I haven't exactly worked a gym routine into my life, still sorting stuff out." He defends, wanting to see just how far he can get her to push him.

"You've been here, what? Five months? Get it together."

"How about this McNally," He breathes, getting much closer to her, stepping right up to her so that they're toe to toe. Though her breathing hitches and she gives him a 'what the hell are you doing, get out of my bubble' face, she doesn't step away or ward him off.

He doesn't stop until the edge of his nose is a centimeter away from hers, and he can smell the mixture of sweat and this morning's vanilla shampoo radiated off her skin and invade his senses.

"How about sometime I give you the work out."

It's bold, it's too bold, and it breaks most, if not all, the boundaries he'd set up for himself when he decided not to stay away from her.

He can see the struggle in her muscles that eventually forces her to swallow, and her mouth opens with a perfect little gasp that he wants to hear again sometime.

His lashes lower as he stares at her lips, and she feels his nose brush against hers. He's close enough now that she can smell this mornings' coffee on his breath, and breathes him in.

He takes one step away from her, and she feels the loss of his body heat like a cruel reminder that she shouldn't let him get that close ever again.

"Maybe rock climbing or something," He says, rather nonchalantly as he steps around her, walking back in the direction they came.

"Asshole." She mutters under her breath, following behind him, just a matter of seconds.

* * *

"You get time with your little girl this weekend?" Ted asks Markey in the break room of Brennan's warehouse, three days later. Sam's sitting between the two, they walked in only a few minutes after them, all having got back from picking up some of his construction rentals at a job site in Mississauga.

He's been getting less and less involved in the illegal operations that Jason seems to have taken over, and has no idea how to get back to how it used to be. Seems Hill wants his own in on the deals, wants guys he can trust.

To say he's dreading the idea of going out for drinks with Jason to find a way in...

He doesn't want Andy to know any of it. That's the last thing he wants. It would be the worst outcome, for everyone, not just her, but getting on the inside, having to help Jason lie to her, when he can barely do it for his own selfish reasons... Impossible.

He's putting it off. And in doing so, he's putting everything he's worked for on hold, he's putting every single person on the outside of this job on hold.

"Yeah, yeah, Marie let me see her. She's getting so big man, I can't even believe it's her." He mumbles, trying to hide his smile from his co-worker. These guys, like Brennan, are family men, but their pride, their cred, their appearance, it means everything in this job. This job makes better lives for their families. Their families, are what make them happy. But they can't be. Not on the surface.

"I know what you mean, can't believe Jack's almost a teenager now. He's so smart too. Sometimes I wanna ask Leslie if he's mine." He laughs, shaking his head. Ted is a little less afraid of what the guys say about him. Then again, he's the biggest guy they know. "I'd love him either way though."

"Gates." Markey calls, tossing some of the crust of his sandwich in Sam's direction. His head snaps up, as though he hadn't been paying attention. "Saw you down on Goodman Trail. The stretch by the lake. That's where Kelly likes to bike ride. That your wife?"

Fuck.

As if things hadn't been complicated enough.

"Ah, naw, she's just a friend." He says, truthfully. As much as a family would give him even more of an in, he can't risk them seeing her with Jason, in case he ever brings her around the warehouse.

(Sam would likely wring his neck if he did, but, just in case.)

"Looked more than friendly." Markey snickers. Sam knows now what he saw, that he saw him getting... close to her. "She's beautiful man, should do something about it."

"I was just messing with her. She's uh, she's got a guy already. That's not my style." He says, thinking that would at least earn him some respect from these guys. Thinking that if now they find out she has anything to do with Jason, they'll agree that Sam's the better man. Well, that _Shawn's_ the better man.

They both nod, not saying something. Sam can only guess what it might be, but he has a feeling he was right.

* * *

He knows he's right when he gets an invite from Brennan to his cabin down in Mississauga over the weekend. He checks with Andy, asks what she's got going on, makes sure she doesn't have the same plans, before agreeing to go, and hopes desperately the entire drive down that Jason didn't have any plans to surprise her.

When he gets there he wasn't sure what he expected, but he knows he didn't expect it to be so, normal. Wives, kids, a barbecue, boats on the lake. The few guys from work who're there are so much more different. Carefree smiles all around, kissing their wives or girlfriends any chance that arises. Tossing their toddlers a few feet in the air, sure to catch them though. Throwing the stick in the lake for Brennan's dog. It's... it's something he never imagined.

It's hard to know that he's got to set them up for a takedown now. To watch these families end up like his, simply for wanting to give them the best.

He's kicking himself for even thinking it, but he knows already that he'll testify for most of them as a character witness, help lessen their jail time.

"Shawn." Brennan says, finally making his way to him on his hosting rounds. "You got yourself a drink, you've got one of the greatest views in the province, and you look like someone force fed you a sour apple."

Sam smiles and shakes his head, looking down at the ground. Brennan was something else here too. Like a corny uncle, or, something.

"Guys told me there's a girl... thought maybe you'd bring her down." He admits, turning to look out at the lake beside Sam.

"Yeah, she's just a good friend." He says, taking a long sip out of his beer bottle, trying to come up with a strategy to commandeer the conversation.

"That's the best place to start. Foundation for my marriage." He says, not bothering to look at Sam when he turns to look at his boss. It's the first time he's mentioned the loss of his wife since he's met him. And he thinks this is somewhat of a breakthrough for him. "They're the ones who get you best. Know what you need."

"Yeah, she's got a guy, so." Sam says. He wants to get inside the guys head, get him to tell him what's with the gathering, where's Keeley? Why is Hill trying to push all of his guys out, but this weekend isn't the time.

"For now she does. Women like that, that get you, they don't knock on your door every day." Brennan grins, like Sam's not in the secret just yet. "So, uh, some of the guys are getting more time on the warehouse and rental shifts. Doing more honest work. We can afford it now, with Hill's cuts. So, I wanted to know if you wanted out."

Sam's gob smacked. He... he cannot believe that this is what has come of his job. That Brennan is doing this, for all of them.

Sam knew the guy wasn't complete filth, and he wasn't even sure he was still in the life when he came in, but he never even suspected that his employment of half decent street guys went this deep. That he knew their families this well, that he cared this much.

All of a sudden he wants to call Boyd up, tell him they were wrong, about everything, and just go home. Explain things to Andy, tell her Jason...

Jason.

Jason would get away with it all. Jason would keep being the good guy on the outside, and the scumbag trainee on the inside. Who's to say Andy would even believe him. Her loyalty is probably with him. They've known each other longer...

(He knows her better.)

He's been there for her for some hard times...

(If she's even told him about her dad... her mom...)

He's the one she calls at night. The one who's there at night...

(Though she may have confided in him that they haven't had sex in a while. A long while. She thinks he might be cheating. (He is. New secretary named Trisha.))

This makes Sam want to be sure that all of Brennan's guys are out of that side before any bust. He wants to keep them safe too.

"Uh, I don't know boss. Not yet." He says, waiting for a strange look from Brennan to keep going. "I just don't trust Duchamp, or Hill. You know? I can't help but feel like something's going on."

Brennan nods, and one side of his mouth curving up.

"Yeah, me too." He sighs. "But I can't worry about that. I've got to leave that alone now. Let Hill screw himself into the cops' hands."

Sam nearly chokes on his next swell of beer, but he doesn't somehow. Focuses on his next words... very carefully.

"Pigs onto him?"

Brennan's small hint of a smile turns bigger.

"I've got a feeling."

Sam honestly doesn't even know what to say, or do, or feel at the moment. He doesn't feel threatened, he doesn't have an overwhelming feeling in his gut telling him to get out of this, get pulled. But he does feel like Brennan knows something.

"Huh." Is all Sam manages, once he realizes he hasn't left a pregnant pause in the conversation, his brain is just firing that quickly.

"Anyway, about that girl, I want to meet her Shawn. She sounds like one of a kind." He gives him a swift pat on the shoulder, before turning right around and heading back over to the grill.

Huh.

* * *

"Andy!" Jason says abruptly, pulling Andy out of her own head. She realizes he's been talking about his new job for the last twenty minutes, and she's been... elsewhere. Thinking about what she's got to do this week. Look for a full time job, make plans with Shawn, make lunch plans with her Dad, call Shawn.

Basically she's in a fancy pants restaurant with her boyfriend, on their anniversary, and all she can think about... is Shawn.

She knows it's well past time to tell Jason that things have just, died, between them. But every time she musters up the courage, there's something else in the way.

She'd been thinking about it constantly after their run along the lake, but, then when she saw him later that night, he mentioned going to Thailand for a little while. Just them, that he remembers she mentioned it a few months ago. Wanted to see the world before she decided to serve one city for the rest of her life. See what else was out there.

"Yeah?"

"You're just somewhere else tonight, huh?" He asks. She thinks he ought to be mad, maybe he has a right, but he's smiling at her like a goon. "I love that crazy head of yours. Always working. What even goes on up there?"

She smiles, blushes. It's one of those moments, again, where she can't think that he doesn't deserve another shot...

But he still doesn't make her feel, quite the way that Shawn does.

"I dunno... just... stuff." She says, inconclusively, trying to get him back on track of what he was saying.

He has this huge grin on his face, and when she looks back to where he's taken her hand in his, there's a box next to them.

She can't help the giant gasp of terror that immediately escapes her lips and he chuckles, knowing what she thinks it is.

"Open it babe." He says, trying to sound calming, assuring her this isn't her shackle for life.

She reaches for it tentatively, and takes the square and flat box in her hands, running a finger over the clasp before opening it up.

It's a bracelet. A diamond tennis bracelet.

She drops it back onto the table, horrified at the expensive gift. That he would spend that kind of money on it. For a fleeting moment she finds herself wanting to beg him to tell her it's a family heirloom, that it didn't cost him a dime.

"Surprise. Happy Anniversary." He smiles, thinking her reaction is happy shock. Not 'Oh dear God, I've been thinking of calling this off for a month and now you've given me diamonds' shock.

"Jason, this is too much."

"No, it's not enough."

"Jace-"

"Babe. New job pays really well. I've been saving for this for a while. I want you to have this." He insists, pulling it from the box, and grabbing her wrist, just gently.

He gently opens the clasp, and smoothes the pad of his thumb over the veins on her wrist, and she watches, with a worried eyebrow, as he closes it.

She looks at it, and she can't tell him, all over again. She can't put this all on the line for a guy she hardly knows anything about. She's happy.

(Content.)

She's safe.

(Secure.)

They're doing better.

(Trying to.)

She looks up at his smiling face, and does her best to mirror it, but it's so forced.

He can't tell.

Turns out, this is her shackle.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here we go. I think you'll all love this chapter. As of course things get even more complicated, a few pay offs are coming your way.**

* * *

Things were groggy for Andy when she awoke in Jason's bed, alone, the morning after their dinner. The rest of the night, she'd managed to get through somewhat normally, and then later in the night, here, she felt like she couldn't even get into the sex even a little. Back to the mattress, hand in his hair, him between her legs, and that fucking bracelet staring her right in the face.

Even now as she ran a hand through her hair, it was like a bug that just wouldn't un-stick itself. It was heavy. Mostly she means it in a literal sense, but also others. It's too much, she doesn't want it, but she doesn't know how to get out of this mess.

She'd croaked out at some point in the last ten hours that she 'loved' it, but really, even if she were accepting it from someone she was committed too, like, truly, it wasn't her. At all. How could he not know that? He's bought her jewelry before. A couple of necklaces, once a simple sterling silver ring. But this is too much.

"Yeah, I gave her the bracelet." She hears Jason say from the kitchen. She can't help the small groan, and roll of her eyes.

Probably his mom. She only calls three times a day... Mama's boy. Even tight with his uncle on that side too. Neither had taken a liking to her. The uncle was creepy. "No, it'll be fine with her. She won't let anything happen to it. Trust me. Safest place it could be."

She rubs her eyes again, further smudging her heavy makeup from the night before, as she brushes the sleepy's away.

"Well he wasn't willing to settle for a lower percentage. I know! I know! Uncle, I tried, but his guys weren't gonna let Brennan settle." He says, louder into the phone.

Andy swung her legs out of bed, and felt around the floor with her foot, in search of her underwear. God, he had a naked woman in his bed, and he was talking business with his uncle instead. Not that she exactly wanted him hovering, but sometimes she just felt like an accessory. Never used to, but for the last few months she's felt more like an obligation. So why spend all that money on a gift for her? Especially when even his family seemed to be warding him off.

She kept searching the floor for a shirt, or sheet to put on and stood slowly, the wine from last night catching up with her as she stood. Her hair was a mess, her eyes probably resembled those of a raccoon, and her limbs felt like dead weight. Drinking that much to be able to have sex with a man whose given you diamonds certainly isn't the classiest thing she's done.

"Yeah well, now we've got some profit hidden away. Admit it, it was a good idea. That bra- Hey! Look, I've got another call, I'll call you later Uncle Anton. Bye."

She had just managed to secure the sheet tightly around her chest when she began to take her first steps toward the kitchen, where Jason's voice was coming from. She was in desperate need of coffee, until -

"Hey babe. Yeah. I'll be in in about an hour. I'll, uh, just... meet me at my car. I could use a little good morning pick me up." He whispers, now watching himself. But it's too late. Andy is standing four feet behind him. Hand reaching for the mug next to her.

She can't help that her arm twitches in a throwing fashion.

The mug misses him, as intended, smashing against the cabinet next to him, hot coffee landing on his work clothes.

"The fuck?" He asks, turning around to see his enraged girlfriend behind him, hand reaching blindly into the sink for another glass to throw. "Oh wait, Andy-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence, only drop his phone, ending his call. She throws a cup also missing his head. She doesn't want to end up getting an assault charge, she just wants to scare the living shit out of him. She wants him to know just exactly he's messed with.

"The hell is wrong with you? Andy stop." He says, trying to regain some of his composure, putting his hand out in front of him, setting a boundary.

"No, what the hell is wrong with you!? Do you know how long I've been trying to make this work? How long I've been trying to make this better? No wonder you've been fucking working so much, your screwing some skank there!"

"Well it's not like-"

"Finish that sentence, I dare you." She says, hand gripping a small plate sitting on the table. He shuts up. "I'm trying! But you're never here. You're someone else, I don't know what the fuck has happened here, but I never jumped ship!"

She releases it, realizing that she's letting a man she doesn't even love anymore turn her into some kind of monster. She's becoming some stereotypical jealous girl, and jealousy isn't even the issue here. It's frustration. It was her giving him chance after chance despite what her heart has been telling her. Despite what she's been wanting. Who she's been wanting.

"I have wasted enough time on you." She says, lowering her voice, and bowing her head slightly. "My stuff will be out of here by the time you get home from work."

He just stares at her in disbelief, like he's sure he shouldn't be in one piece right now, like he hasn't fully processed what just happened. Andy steps towards the table, grabbing her dress that had been thrown there last night, and retreats back into the bedroom.

He may need to change that coffee stained shirt, but he wouldn't dare follow her. Clearly he's not as smart as she once thought, but he'd have to be a moron.

Ten minutes later, she's got a pair of old jeans and t-shirt that she kept there on, and has started grabbing everything she can see that's hers. She doesn't want to linger, she doesn't want to be there for another minute. She just wants to go wallow in shame.

How could she not have known? How?

The lack of sex, all the hours he worked. He started getting way more phone calls every since he started the new job. It was all right in front of her. But she'd been so focused on committing herself, forgetting that she'd been cheating, emotionally, that she missed it all.

She didn't even feel hurt, or betrayal, just embarrassment and humiliation.

But she knew that there would be no more of that. Now she just wanted to feel, well, the way Shawn made her feel. Appreciated, wanted, lusted, beautiful.

With that, she grabbed her gym bag, crammed full of the stuff that had found its way to his apartment over the years, and made her way out. Completely forgetting the bracelet on her wrist.

* * *

Sam couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his face when he ran into Duchamp in the office later that morning, not having seen him since they'd met in Brennan's office. He took in the man's coffee stained shirt and soon realized that already his own day was going to be just great. He enjoyed knowing that Jason's day was shit.

Brennan must've vouched for him, because he managed to get back on track with the underground part of the business, without having to put in the effort of getting on Jason's good graces.

Brennan knew. Sam was sure Brennan knew he was a cop. He was certain that what he had implied at his cabin was that he wanted Sam to bring him down. He was certain that that should make him feel uneasy, but it didn't. Sam was coming to terms with the fact that he liked Brennan. History and all. And though he wanted justice for the families and people Brennan had once hurt, he saw Brennan's actions as atonement, and didn't want the people he was helping now to suffer. That wasn't fair to anyone.

"Hear the story there?" Ted asks, brushing by Sam on his way down to the warehouse. Sam merely shook his head, eyes following Duchamp. "Trisha was shrieking about how his bitch girlfriend threw a mug of coffee at his head this morning, found out they were boning each other and went ballistic."

Sam went from amused to concerned, zero to sixty, so to speak. Andy knew, and she was hurt, because of that jackass.

"Guess that relationship's over." Ted laughs, giving Sam a pat on the shoulder, and continuing on his way.

Yeah, that'd be the only way for things to go.

"Guess so." He mutters in response, despite being alone. His eyes follow Duchamp as he disappears into a room, and Sam finds his feet following too.

* * *

"I know twenty five percent was too generous, but he wasn't going to give it up for any less." Jason insisted rather loudly.

Sam had his back up against the wall, and head turned toward the door that was left open only a crack, and he had arrived there only moments after Duchamp, but figured out the context of the conversation quickly.

"Well now we've gotten ourselves in a bit of a bind haven't we? Are you sure you can launder the money like this and keep it away from Brennan's attention Jason? Because if he finds out we're screwing him over, this entire thing is going to hell, and we'll end up with a turf war no one wanted."

Sam recognizes the secondary voice as Anton Hill's, but can't for the life of him imagine why would he come here himself. In person meetings were held in areas more familiar to him than this, and generally in one of his own places (which Sam supposes this now is, but Brennan hasn't packed up his office yet).

Laundering money, he should've known. It _was_ too good a deal. It had made Sam's job easier. Fact was that now he had to help make sure Brennan's boys didn't find out what he'd done, because while Brennan knows better than wage war on someone like Hill, if his guys are getting screwed in the process, they won't think twice. And just like that, their better life is gone.

He had to help make sure no one else found out what they were doing, and had to find out where exactly the money was hiding. That would be enough for a warrant. That would give them enough to arrest Hill and hold him until they could prove that he was heavily involved in running drugs and little girls.

How the lie they'd woven managed to get Sam into more trouble at every turn, he'd never know. But at this point, he's certain that things can't possibly get much worse.

"But it's secure you're sure of that? You can trust her?" Hill asks, snapping Sam out of his thoughts.

"Well, we may have hit a bump there, but I can get it back." Jason insists.

Once again, a simple exchange between the two men had the hairs on Sam's neck standing at attention as he listened, and realized that this had to be about Andy.

Did Andy know? Had he been played?

"I told you not to get involved with a cops daughter. I told you it wouldn't get you very far!" Hill growled, obviously holding down a roar.

"I'll get it back, don't worry." His frustrated nephew insists, sating his crazed uncle, and himself.

Sam's breathing has picked up heavily, and his heart is pounding away in his ears, and he can't pick up any more of their conversation. She didn't know, but she was involved?

If she was on the wrong side of Anton Hill without even knowing it, what had been the point of him staying close this entire time? What was the point of all the lies, and letting her fumble her way to the end of an already awful relationship? He thought he was putting her in danger, at risk, but the guy she'd been dating for two years was practically using her as a shield, throwing her into something she had nothing to do with.

* * *

A few hours and some deep unwanted thoughts that would torment him until his hair turned grey later, he was walking up the final flight of stairs to his apartment. When he heard a heavy sigh come from the direction of his door, he slowed immediately, taking a position that would allow him to see who was there before they saw him, and once he noticed Andy sitting there, knees up against her chest, he drops his guard and paranoia and makes his way to her.

She's been here once, and he's been to her place a couple of times. Only briefly, only to grab a change of clothes, or something they'd forgotten, but he's impressed that she remembers which apartment, how to get in by the back alley door. A little concerned that she'd crossed into this neighbourhood alone...

"Hey." She says quietly, looking up at him, but not moving.

Her eyes look like she's tried to wipe away the remnants of smudged makeup, and her hair is pulled back into a kinky ponytail. There's a bag sitting next to her, a very full gym bag it looks like.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He manages to ask eventually, crouching down to her level, since she doesn't seem interested in rising .

"A few hours. I didn't know if you were at work, or just out running errands..." She doesn't finish the list of thoughts, probably not wanting to sound like she'd desperately needed him sooner than this, but she _had_ waited, so.

"You should've called me. He says softly, but immediately reprimands himself. He's not supposed to know about the break up, the cheating, any of it, he's supposed to be just somebody she leans on every once in a while, _that's_ why she's here.

"Yeah well, most people have lives unlike me. I wouldn't want to interrupt." She mumbles, pushing herself to her feet, while he just shakes his head, and stays down, rising only after she's been towering over him for a minute.

"What's wrong?" He asks, knowing that she's going to shake off the fact that she's spent hours waiting on him, needing him.

"Can't we just go inside?" She asks, obviously not wanting to say a word of what's wrong. But he knows, he knows that despite the fact that she might not be willing to admit that she's been duped and hurt, she needs to. She needs to say the words out loud.

"Not until you tell me what's up." He says, dangling his keys in front of her face, and then hiding them behind his back.

She raises her eyebrow, and a small grin starts to find its way across her lips, and from nowhere her hand darts around him reaching for them. She steps much closer now, but doesn't seem to be aware of the physical closeness, solely focused on getting those keys, so while his brain takes a minute to catch up, she almost gets them. But he takes a step back, grinning in return, amused by her child like tendencies.

"Gimme!" She laughs freely, cheeks sore from the huge smile that's gone full blown.

Then she gets her other arm around his back, grabbing for his closed fists, and he's forced to take another step back. He keeps evading her that way until one more step is taken, and the railing by the stairs meets his lower back, trapping him, keeping their bodies pressed together, and the key behind his back long forgotten.

Both of their breathing is a little laboured, her eyes are on his lips, and his eyes are on her eyes. The closed fists behind his back have fallen to his sides, and the arms that had been reaching around both sides of his waist have made their way to his chest. That's where her eyes are rested now, as she runs her hands up to his shoulders.

She's feeling him out slowly, as if trying not to spook him, and he lets her take all the time she needs, afraid that if he does move, she'll snap out of this trance their both in.

Her eyes are shamelessly raking in his built chest and arms, hands feeling him out, wondering if they're as hard, as sturdy, as they look. Once she's done assessing him, she rests her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them once to assure that he's really there, that this is real, and then she leans up on her toes a little, tipping her head toward him.

At last he finally moves, first wrapping the key ring around his finger, and then letting his hands grab her waist, but no more, not yet. That's all he dares move until she closes the final gap. She has to be sure of him, the way he's been sure of her since day one.

And so she closes that gap.

She's soft and tentative at first, a light peck that gently sinks into him. And then her lips begin to move, press against his. Slowly she opens them up a little, just to get his moving too, and then he loses any of the restraint he'd been keeping.

With a quick swipe of his tongue to her lower lip, he gains entry, and begins moving his feet, backing them up until her back hits his door, and he massages her tongue with his own. She gives a tiny moan at the very moment her back hits the door, and she feel shim press into her, wanting him more than she'd ever fantasized (and she fantasized about him quite a bit).

She brings one leg up attempting to hitch onto his hips a little so she can better feel the grind of his hips, so that his zipper presses into hers right where she wants it. So when he bends his knees to make it possible, and brings his hips between hers again, she moans helplessly, unable to muffle it like before. He's battling for dominance with her mouth, but she has the small inkling that he likes the fight of equal want and desire that she's pitting against him.

When she finally pulls back from his hungry mouth, and moves hers to his neck, he has a moment to finally get back to original point, he wanted to hear what she was doing there.

"Andy..." Was all he managed, in the form of a groan.

"Me and Jason, it's done." Is all she says, making it absolutely clear that she's here, not because she needs a shoulder, but she needs all of him. Wants all of him, and is finally giving into what they've both wanted.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, wanting both the assurance and the pleasure it gives him to hear, though he's already trying to get he's key into the lock behind her.

She bites her lip as he presses into her one more time, coaxing an answer out of her when she doesn't respond in her lust drunk state.

"Yes." Is all she gasps out, and that's all he needed to hear.

And the door opens.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This chapter, and half of the one that is to follow, weren't apart of my original plan for this story, but I'm not ready for everything to unravel just yet. So here's me winding things up, just a tiny bit more.**

* * *

She's not quite sure what woke her up. The light is being filtered by the shades on the window, and there are no loud noises coming from outside, the hall or the streets, other than the faint chirps of birds. The heat for a Toronto summer has been pretty reasonable so far, if not pleasant, and Sam's breathing is even and steady next to her.

She lays there for a moment longer, revelling in the fact that last night had finally happened. There had been so many moments in the previous weeks where she'd yearned to reach out and kiss him senseless, or better yet, have him pin her up against a wall (much like last night). And it happened. It surpassed every fantasy she'd imagined. He was better than her fantasy.

She must've rolled a little faster than she meant to, because Sam stirred next to her, and draped an arm over her hip, pulling her back to his chest again. He pressed a kiss to her neck, and nuzzled right in, substituting her for the pillow. He's remembering how much she loves that spot from last night...

* * *

_He'd been very focused on her neck after they stumbled through the door, every limb possible was tangled up in the others, holding them as close together as they could be, for now. Shirts were being thrown and torn off one another, concern for the material itself was disregarded, nothing was as important than having each other._

_He kept licking, kissing and biting his way from her lips to collarbone, and back up again, making brief visits to her ear lobes for a gentle nip and whisper of how much he wanted her, exactly what he wanted to do to her, and how many times..._

_He had been holding her in place against another wall, by the front closet maybe (details, who cares) when their movement against one another was beginning to be too much to handle. She wanted to get off, and she wanted to get off right then. But Sam sensed her growing frustration, and wanted her to move at his slow, sensual and tantalizing pace._

_"We have all night ." He said, breaking up each word with kisses along her jaw. "I've got you."_

_It wasn't until his hands went to hold her wrists above her head that they stopped, and he inspected the item he found there._

_"Urgh." She grunted, frustrated that it was already worming its way into this new relationship. "Just take it off." She panted, holding it out for him to take care._

_She unwrapped her legs from his hips and slid down his body, and reluctantly took both of his hands off of her body to open the clasp. If it weren't so valuable, it too would've been torn off. But it was real, or at least, that's how it looked to him._

_He looked as though he was ready to inspect it after he got off of her, and she didn't want to hear the string of questions that would come along with it. So she grabbed either side of his face, and distracted him with her mouth, and eventually she felt him let go of the bracelet, and his hands returned to her ass, lifting her in place, and carrying her further into the apartment._

* * *

Just as she was beginning to remember the best parts of last night, Sam starts to stir more behind her, stretching briefly and inhaling the smell of her hair where his head was rested. He let a low and content sigh slip out in his exhale and his arm around her tightened briefly, before the attention to her neck started all over again.

"Good morning." His gravelly voice murmurs.

Good morning indeed.

"Mmm." She hums approvingly, as she began turning in his arms to get a good morning kiss.

Though her eyelids were barely open, she was gazing longingly at his sculpted biceps, and her eyes stopped on his tattoo, just long enough to trace it and her finger continued on its way up his arm.

"G'morning." She mumbles back, kissing at his shoulder in return.

Before she could work her way up to his face, he leans down, and nudged her nose with his, coaxing her mouth towards his, and finally getting their proper good morning.

He kept it short, which she appreciated. She was one of those people who had a problem with morning breath. But, she didn't mind this morning. This morning, all she wanted was to feel him everywhere.

"So." He smiles, one of those looks that lets her know he's thinking about her naked body, or just damn proud of the fact that he can whenever he wants.

"Mmm... so." She smiles back, beginning to feel him out under the sheer sheet covering them. She slips one of her legs between his thighs, getting as close to him as possible.

"Hey, wow! Hang on now, you can't just expect me to be at your beck and call now." He says, still with the huge grin spread across his face. "I need sustenance."

She laughs freely, placing another kiss on his lips before letting her hands roam over his chest and arms again.

"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting what a dinosaur you are." She begins to slip out of his reach and towards the edge of his bed, keeping her front under the sheet. He grins at her comment, a lot more used to the ribs about his age now than he'd been before. "We're at your place, remember?"

As soon as she was at the beds edge, she swings her feet out, and sits up straight allowing her arms to stretch over her head, knowing that Sam was staring openly at her naked back.

"Guess your recovery time isn't what it used to be." She sighs dramatically before slipping his shirt over her head, and disappearing out of the room.

"Show you recovery time!" He yells, pausing briefly to slip his boxers on, before following her out.

* * *

"I want food." She states, half an hour and kitchen sex later.

He laughs and leans forward to where she's still perched on the counter top, places a sweet kiss on her lips.

"You really are hungry aren't you?" He asks, still ready to give up a meal to go another round... again.

While he isn't a dinosaur, she wasn't wrong about his usual recovery time, except she seemed to be an anomaly. The only exception. He was aching for her within minutes of being satisfied, and he hoped the feeling would never go away.

But, uh, back to the point, they'd been in his room since she arrived at his apartment over twelve hours ago, hunger is warranted.

"Feeeed meeee." She whines, pouty lower lip making an appearance to match her wide, innocent eyes. She's hooked her hands into the band of his briefs that he's just pulled back up, and she's thumbing them, keeping his attention to the fact that he may not have her much longer if he doesn't find her something to eat.

"Okay, princess." He smirks, pushing himself away from her, and finally stalking over to the fridge.

She lets out a low wolf whistle at the view of his briefs hugging his delectable derriere as he leans in, digging around for breakfast ingredients.

When he turns around, he's faced with Andy's raised eyebrow, lowered lashes, and her bottom lip caught by her teeth. He knows this look is going to get him every time. All the times to come...

"Make up your mind." He laughs, feigning objectification, and fakes offense when she nods her head in the direction of the fridge.

She continues to watch him dig around in the fridge and smiles contently. Satisfied. She's just, completely enamoured.

She always guessed it'd be this way with him. This easy, blissful feeling that she had never found with anyone else, with someone she can hardly say she knows.

She can mimic his facial expressions and what they all mean. She can tell when he's had far too much coffee, or not enough before he even says a word. She knows that through his gruff (and kind of un-kept) exterior that he has a huge heart, and it only goes out to those he keeps close.

They move around one another as if they've been living in sync for years.

It's everything she's never had and everything she wants to fight tooth and nail to keep.

But she doesn't really _know_ him. She couldn't tell you where he grew up, or if his parents are together. She doesn't know if he has siblings, if he ever had a broken bone. She doesn't know where he went to school, or how many serious relationships he's been in. She doesn't know his middle name.

What she does know, is that she wants to know it all. She wants the chance to be a real part of his life, and hopes he wants the same part in hers.

But it's too early for promises. It's too early for labels and talks of what future they have. Both in terms of daytime and how long it's actually been since they decided to rethink the "friendship".

"Okay, I have no food." He grumbles at last, pulling her out of her thoughts, and himself out of the fridge. "Guess we can grab some apple flips from CeeCee's, if you want. I can walk you home."

She raises one eyebrow this time, something he realizes means he's said something wrong here.

"You kicking me out? Shawn?" She asks, teasing, which he's relieved about. But her using that name...

To remember all over again that she doesn't know the truth... He forgets is the thing. He forgets that he's trapping her in this web of lies, and he forgets that he's not himself.

He's trouble, he's bad news, and right now, he doesn't feel like a better man than Jason Duchamp.

Fortunately, that's as far as his self pity party got before there was a knock at the door, startling them both.

If only they could've stayed in their cocoon a little longer, he might've began telling her truth, but the universe had other plans.

* * *

"Boss?" Sam says, surprised when he opens the door to find that Jamie Brennan is his visitor this morning.

After the knock, Andy bolted from her spot on the counter to his bedroom, and began throwing a shirt and pair of jeans his way, and racing toward the bathroom to no doubt make herself appear presentable as well.

"Gates." He says shortly, moving past Sam, right into the apartment, taking a quick look around before sliding on to a breakfast stool in the kitchen. "Got time for a coffee?"

Brennan makes a short gesture towards Sam's coffee maker, while Sam stands, one hand on the still open door, staring open mouthed at his boss.

With nearly perfect timing, he hears the bathroom door squeak as it opens, meaning Andy will be in the room presently. And before he can get his act together, she rounds the kitchens corner, and stops briefly when she sees Brennan occupying the seat.

Everyone is at a complete standstill. Andy's shocked, and embarrassed (probably) about what they were doing on that breakfast bar not too long ago. Sam's concerned about trying to be two different men at once, trying to deceive them both. And Brennan is surprised that 'Shawn' has company. Last he heard it, he was pining after a girl who was taken.

That may be the distraction Sam needs to get away with the two different types of behaviour he's used to having with these two individuals. Maybe.

Show Brennan his soft side, show Andy that this isn't nothing, that he has wanted her... and will continue to after - just, after.

"Um, hi." Andy squeaks, noticing that he hadn't moved from his position at the door. She shuffles over to Brennan, hand extended, smile plastered across her face, despite the awkward situation. Not that she knows that it is... yet. "I'm Andy."

"Andy, this is Jamie Brennan, my boss." Sam jumps in, figuring this is happening, whether he can grasp it or not. Time to jump aboard a moving train. "Boss this is Andy. The girl I was telling you about."

He may or may not have added that last part in for the benefits that he would get, from both parties.

Jamie's smile widens as it all clicks, and his eyes warm a little, not that Andy'd be able to tell.

She blushes after the comment leaves his mouth, and she sneaks a small look his way, she has a smile just for him.

"Pleasure to meet you." Jamie says, slowly shaking Andy's hand, studying her, causing her blush to stay a while. Take tenancy upon her cheeks and neck.

"You too. Shawn's told me how much he's liked his work. Mentioned that his boss was a pretty nice guy." She says, hoping to pull some attention back Sam's way. He didn't say any of those things, he's told her how hard it's been, how the company struggled. But she's got his back, talking him up to his... ex-boss actually, making this work to his advantage.

"Well, unfortunately my company is changing hands, but Shawn here has agreed to stay on." Jamie says, all through a smile. But then he turns to meet Sam's eye, and he gets a little nervous. He may suspect that Brennan knows he isn't who he says he is, but he doesn't completely trust the guy not to pull a gun on him and turn him into Swiss cheese for lying.

But before he can even draw another thought, his suspicions are confirmed.

"He's going to see that it doesn't go under. Wouldn't want my years and hard work to go to waste."

Brennan wants nothing more than to see Hill go down after all the crap he's pulled in this town. Sam understands now that it is their unspoken agreement.

He always knew he liked Brennan.

"But he's not all business, Andy, surely you know that. See he's told me about you as well."

And yep, she's still blushing, doing her best to come up with something else to say, but instead stays quiet. For fear of being a blundering idiot.

"Well boss, she's uh, she's something worth mentioning." Sam beams. He realizes that he loves watching her squirm. Preferable beneath him (or on top, he's impartial) but this is doing it for the moment, this is fun too.

"From what you last told me though, she had uh, other commitments." He says, carefully testing the waters here. Brennan walked in on her walking out of his bedroom, but for all he knows things have been completely innocent. But not by her blush, or matted hair actually... it may be in a bun, but he can tell it's all about containing the mess, by their smiles.

"Well, I guess sometimes what you need is staring you right in the face and you don't always see it. At least not right away." Andy says, trying to hold a little composure.

Sam hopes to god that part of the confession was to be polite, to take away from the fact that this looked like she was bed-hopping, but he also hopes that it's just that, a confession. That there is a part of her that needs him, wants him.

There is a bit of a pause on everybody's part. Jamie is still grinning away at Andy, Andy is still trying to avoid eye contact with both men in the room for the moment, and Sam is trying to figure out how to diffuse and get Brennan out of here without suspicion.

"Well, if I can extend the previous invitation for coffee that I made to Shawn, Andy would you like to join us for breakfast?" Brennan asks, sensing that things needed to be moved along, and that clearly, he could provide that.

Andy wants to say yes on one hand. See if getting Sam in a new setting with a third party changes their dynamic, (see if Brennan has anything to reveal about him that she doesn't know herself) but on the other hand, she knows she can't. She can't just stomp her way into his life, he has to invite her in, on his own terms, not his bosses.

"I couldn't impose." She says at last, deciding that it's a firm enough statement, that she'll be excused because she made herself sound un-interested.

On Sam's part, he's relieved that she wants to get herself out of the situation, without him having to play defence, un-invite her without offending her.

"No, I told Shawn I wanted to meet his girl. I insist."

While Brennan's tone is friendly, while he is doing everything right to make the situation normal, while Sam should know that this coming from a place of paranoia, and instinct to protect Andy from the lies, the phrase sounds like the most doomed statement that has ever left Brennan's mouth.

And while Sam wants to say no, and walk her home immediately, lock them away in her apartment, he's been backed into a corner.

"C'mon Andy, I've got nothing to eat here. Come with us." He finds himself saying in the end.

"Okay," She smiles brightly.

He can't seem to remember a time that he's hated himself more than right now. Scratch that, it'd be thirteen hours when he lost all his willpower, and forgot how to 'just say no'.

_'Here we go,'_ He thinks bitterly to himself _'Leading Alice down the rabbit hole.'_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here it is. I keep putting off the hardest chapters to write, so it's been slow going. But here's a little something to keep you busy till RB airs tonight :) Some of you lucky ducks have already seen it I know...**

* * *

"You two really make a good pair." Brennan says halfway through breakfast, before taking a bite out of his toast.

The conversation had gone from work to sports to hobbies to relationships and the bottle landed on them. Brennan was taken with them as a couple, and Sam was thankful that he'd been able to handle both sides of who he was supposed to be. Of course, he also owed that to Andy's chatterbox tendencies.

"What about you Jamie, do you have a better half?" She smiles, heart fluttering a little. She did doubt her - whatever - with Shawn a couple times, but hearing that other people can see a pull, or something, between them, it means quite a bit. It means she's not as insane as she once thought that they could make it work.

Sam's face falls immediately, and he wishes he was sitting across from her to warn her, but she put it out there, and now it'd be a test of just how fond Brennan is of Andy.

This was a situation Sam had hoped to avoid.

Brennan keeps the smile on his mouth, but his eyes turn down, and Andy of course picks up on the cue that she's struck a chord. Polite guy that Jamie is he waves a hand at her as she tries to apologize for prying and takes a moment for himself before explaining.

Sam of course, already knows the story. Read the file, Brennan told him, everybody at work talked about it. It was no secret. What it was though, was a tragedy.

"I did." He says, regaining his smile at the memory of his late wife. "I did. She was wonderful, Maggie, that was her name."

Sam feels like he's holding as still as a statue trying not to make the wrong move, or make sure that his face is sympathetic, but not overly sympathetic. He's already heard it enough, and the last thing he needs is real sympathy for one of the men he's working.

As much as he'd like to protect Brennan and his now honest business, he's not positive he'll be able to.

"She was the one. Truly the only woman I ever loved." He reminisces, clearly not afraid of what 'Shawn' will think of this version of the story. He does figure he's getting a little more emotional with Andy, she does bring that out in people. "She was my best friend."

Andy gives him a small sad smile, she knows exactly where it's going, and better still she's not going to say anything prematurely.

"She and our daughter, my little Gracie, were killed in a car accident a couple of years ago." Brennan offers the last line slowly. Surely his daughters early death is more painful than his wife's, and surely he's not in the mood for a good cry in the middle of a diner.

She sees now that though she knows he must only be forty or so, he looks far more aged than that. The crows feet that characterized his smile probably didn't exist when they were still alive. He probably didn't have the worry in his eyebrows for every facial expression. Jamie Brennan probably used to laugh, from his gut.

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Andy says genuinely, maintaining eye contact with him.

"I should've seen it coming. I didn't deserve them, I didn't deserve that life." Brennan concedes. That's exactly what Sam used to think.

The whole thing is making Sam uneasy now. He wants to stand up and pull Andy into a fireman's carry and get her out.

"It's amazing what you'd do for someone you love. I guess that's why you should appreciate what you have while you have it." Brennan says thoughtfully, eyes going back and forth between the two of them. The matter of his deceased family is clearly done, and their moving back to territory Brennan is more comfortable with, and to Sam's surprise, Andy gets that message too.

"I guess, I agree." Andy says, blushing a little, before sneaking a sideways peek to Sam.

If he weren't so nauseated he may have been capable of returning a corny line, earning an eye roll from her, and a bit of a laugh from Jamie, but he's just so focused on the entire thing wrapping up sooner rather than later, that a smile in return is all he can manage.

"Make sure this guy knows to, eh Andy? You're something, the two of you." Brennan tease briefly, gazing longingly at them. Longing for the ability to put his arm around his wife the way Sam just did Andy.

"Well, uh, I forgot I have a meeting in an hour or so, so I should take off." He stands before either has time to object, and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Jamie you don't have to-" Andy begins to stop him, tell him to leave it to them, but the man throws two twenties down before she can finish.

"Nonsense. You two have fun today, I gotta go."

The man grabs his jacket and turns away from their booth before Andy can make any more objections, and then they're left just the two of them.

* * *

They're sitting next to one another in the cozy booth. Even closer too now that Jamie's gone.

His arm is around her shoulders and she's sipping on the last of her coffee, watching everybody else in the place talk and laugh. She listens to the clang of forks and knives on plates, and the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. Sunday brunch, everybody had the same idea, so the place is pretty packed.

Shawn seems pretty relaxed all of a sudden. Has the hand of the arm around her fingering a strand of her greasy hair. She almost swats it away, but he's moving closer to her neck, and if she gets a massage out of it... Well then he can touch all the greasy hair he wants.

She hums, and leans her head against his shoulder, allowing his arm to give her a squeeze and rub her arm.

"What?" He asks, looking down at her.

"Nothing, just happy."

She can feel him smirk and laugh at her, and she realizes he's not getting the message. So she pushes one hand against his ribs to shut him up, and sit up, but he just squeezes her tighter.

"No, like, actually happy. I can't remember being this happy before I met you." She says, quietly. She hadn't really meant for the full statement to come out, but once it did, he stopped laughing.

He doesn't say anything, and for a moment she wonders if that was too much too soon. Well, of course it was. First-ish date... thing, and she's saying crap about how happy he makes her? Giving him the power? She admonishes herself for being so blunt so early on.

But then the hand that was in her hair grabs hold of the bottom of her skull, turning her head towards him, and before she can try to take the words back, his lips are on hers.

"Me neither." He sighs contently after pulling away, not wanting to make a scene. It earns him a toothy kiss in return.

* * *

They both agreed that a shower was required after the events of last night, and this morning, and since his apartment was just around the corner...

And they're both environmentally conscious, decided sharing a shower would save water. And it would have, if they hadn't gotten distracted for twenty minutes or so.

They were still in there when a knock came to his door, again.

"You're a popular guy." She says, big smile on her face, thinking about what he'd been doing to her not two minutes ago. "Tell your girlfriends to buzz off, you're mine today."

She curled one hand around his neck and then up into his hair, grabbing on tight, and gets herself up on tippy toes to slam her mouth against his.

He laughs into the kiss, and reaches around her to pull her close again. It takes another knock and the call of his name to get him out of their kiss, and he lets his eyes rake over her.

He blindly turns off the tap behind him, and kisses her shortly, one last time.

"Will do." He says, pulling open the shower door, and reaching for the nearest towel.

"But seriously, get rid of them." She replies, turning the water back on.

He still has a ridiculous smile on his face when he tumbles into his discarded jeans... again, before realizing who the voice calling out to him belonged to.

Boyd.

Fuck.

He races to the front door as quickly as his feet will carry him, and he takes a peak over his shoulder to be sure that the water is still running and her singing is flooding the apartment. Unfortunately her singing is absent, but he sees steam coming from the bottom of the bathroom door, so he decides it's safe enough to open his door and tell Boyd to fuck off.

This isn't a scheduled meet though is the thing. He calls weekly, unless something comes up. So he realizes that getting rid of him will be rather hard.

Unlinking the chain on his door, and simultaneously turning the lock, he barely has the door open before Boyd pushes him back and bursts in.

"Yeah, Boyd, this is a great time, got nothing going on..." Sam mumbles, a nervous sweat developing over his brow.

"Well Sammy, this thing is over, so it doesn't really matter." Boyd snips, walking straight to where the switches for the camera and mic are and disables them by pulling them out of the wall.

Sam stares ahead, unable to process Boyd's words.

"What?"

"You heard me, Peck is shutting us down. We're not making enough progress, and we can't afford to run this without any leads or busts. So you're done." Boyd says, walking around the room in aimless frustration.

"No, no, no, Boyd you gotta stall. I might have something-" Sam is ready to beg, at least ready to beg to have this meeting a little later. But his mind is completely focused on the fact that he won't be getting his white whale after all.

"I've been stalling for weeks. This is it. Unless you've got something new, we're packing up, right now." Boyd replies, certainly too busy to even consider that Sam _could_ have something up his sleeve. Sam wondering if the theory he _has_ got going is solid enough...

There's a moment of silence between the men as Sam runs over the options in his head. What if what he does know is enough and he doesn't say anything. Hill gets away.

Hill who has ruled the streets for too long.

Hill who has girls on the streets before puberty.

Hill who brought Andy into this. Andy who he needs to protect.

Andy who's still in his apartment.

"Boyd, I've got something, but you gotta trust me. I can't tell you right now, I'll meet you in a couple of hours." He decides finally, Boyd waiting impatiently that whole time.

He seems even more frustrated as he lets an un-amused scoff slip, and completely lets go of all hope.

"I don't think you get it Swarek. They're already putting my files into little boxes, that're going into storage. Now, or never."

Sam clenches his jaw, and tightens the hand he has balled into a fist for good measure. The apartment is too quiet. But he hears the fan going in the bathroom. Unfortunately since he can hear the blood pumping in his ears, he can't listen closely enough for the stream of water.

Here goes nothing.

"Duchamp is buying diamonds for his girlfriend. It's embezzled money, I'd bet anything on that." He says simply, hoping he's hooked Boyd's attention to continue this later.

"Why?"

Sam is trying to keep his cool, get it all out as fast as he can, but Boyd is making himself more at home, not taking the hint at all.

"The cut they promised Brennan was too generous. So they're cutting down their own profits, giving him the low 25, and putting the rest away." Sam explains, breaking it down as simply as he can.

"How do you know his girlfriend has the diamonds Sammy?" Boyd asks, taking a seat on the arm of the couch, head tilted back in interest. Starting to think they've got a case to keep going. Thinking he can fuel Pecks interest a little longer.

Before Sam can get another word in, he hears the floor boards creak right behind him. Behind him where the bedroom is located. Where she _had_ been in the shower. Where she was standing now.

"Sorry man, didn't realize you had company." Boyd mumbles, realizing now why Sam had been trying to shove him out the door.

Sam swallows the fear that had been in his throat for weeks now before turning slowly to face her. Her body's stature gives her away.

Her arms are helpless at her sides, limp.

Her shoulders are slouched, low in defeat.

Her mouth is open, parted simply because all the muscles in her face are focused on holding the rest of her together.

Her eyes are questioning, but wet, and her eyebrows are knitted together.

Altogether he reads, scared, confused, and pissed.

He knows that Boyd excuses himself and slips out sometime between noticing Andy, and either speaking a word. But that was a long gap. It was one of the most terrifying moments of Sam's life.

Seeing her hurt, seeing her walk out, seeing that he's single handedly sent her running, and without keeping her safe. Knowing that despite the good that he's trying to do, he should've come clean a long time ago. Knowing that he may never have the opportunity to explain. Knowing that he may never be able to find the words to make her see.

Sometime after the door closes softly, he takes a step toward her, and she takes a step back. One hand up, warning him that he's not getting any closer.

"Who are you?" She whispers, absolutely betrayed.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry! I know it's been a while, but life and what not, you know? Anyway, happy ThuROOKIEBLUEsday! Sorry about that cliff hanger...**

* * *

She looks like a doe on high alert. One crack of a twig and she's going to run. So Sam's feet fall lightly in front of him as he moves to gesture that she sit on the couch while he moves to a chair, far across from her, willing her not to spook.

Her breathing is heavy as she studies the stranger in front of her. She doesn't know how exactly she should feel. She has no idea what's going on. But what she does know is that she no longer feels safe here. She knows she feels like an idiot for indulging herself for once.

This is what you get for jumping off the deep end.

"Andy..." He starts, testing out the waters of familiarity. She says nothing but stares at him with a hard and betrayed face. "I want to tell you everything. But I have to know that what I say doesn't leave this apartment."

She scoffs and is ready to throw it in his face that she doesn't owe him any favours, when he puts his hands up in defence, to show he was not finished speaking.

"I know you have no reason to trust me, but it's for your own safety too."

She can't help but fear whatever it is he's mixed up in, so she agrees with a nod. No sense getting herself killed over this man.

"My name is Sam Swarek." He says slowly. "I'm an undercover cop."

Her frown is let go when surprise washes over her, and suddenly she feels herself grasping at straw to feel secure and trust him again. He's not involved in anything illicit (well not really). He isn't going to turn around and kill her at a moments' notice. For a second she feels her anger slip, before realizing he' still been lying to her.

"I was assigned to work under Jamie Brennan. He used to be an enforcer. He was extremely dangerous, tortured and killed a lot of people." He says, thinking maybe he could've left that part out. He did just let her sit through a meal with him. "He got out of it years ago, and has been supplying some major drug dealers in the city. But my bosses want a bigger fish."

She sits patiently, chest heaving with deep breaths, trying to stay calm and not get erratic. But this is all too much. She truly believed that he was just a normal guy. She believed that they met by chance in a laundromat and everything else, all the feelings were mutual.

Now she wasn't so sure.

"They want Anton Hill. He's an even more dangerous guy. He's involved in a lot more than just drugs, but if we can nail him for something, we think we could investigate the rest. So I've been trying to get myself closer... and then I found out that Jason, is his nephew." He's broken a lot of news to her, and decides that now he should just wait for her questions.

He watches her eyes flicker back and forth, running it all back and replaying everything he's just told her. Trying to search for any sign that in the last few months she might've been able to see it for herself. But Jason was too good at lying to her. Apparently Shawn- Sam was too.

"So Jason's new job was..." Andy starts, finally figuring out the connection between the three of them.

"Yeah. With me at the warehouse." He admits, thinking maybe now she can begin to see that he had no other choices. That this was the only way to keep her safe.

"So... you were working me too? To get closer to him?" She says, voice growing, and panic in her eyes more evident than before.

She's more scared now than she had been moments ago when she had no idea who he was. Because for the first time in a long time, the one thing she thought was real, the one thing she believed in, had been a lie.

Sam feels himself whiten as he hears their conversation through her ears. She thinks she was a pawn in all of this too. Just a stepping stone in his case.

"God, no. Andy-"

"You were getting close to me to find about him! That's why you always wanted to know what was going on with us, right?!" She yells, standing up from the couch. She feels like that's where she gets the dizziness and nausea from, standing up to quickly. She needs to leave before she loses it so she heads for the door, grabbing for the bag that was still sitting there from last night.

"Andy!" He roars trying to cut in, trying to get her to see that the met by chance. The universes plan. "I wasn't even involved with Hill when I met you okay? That was all real."

She turns around very slowly and her eyes aren't filed with heat and anger, not even betrayal. They are blank, and tired. She's exhausted and overwhelmed, and just wants to collapse and hibernate long enough to process. But there's still one thing burning in the back of her mind.

"So, you worked with him? You knew about Jason cheating on me, and you didn't say anything?" She whispers, sending his last mistake his way. Seeing what justification he can offer her.

He swallows, and stands by that decision. Morally, he felt he'd done the right thing leaving it alone.

"Andy it wasn't my place."

She laughs, bitterly, eyes actually some kind of anger again before looking so black he's terrified to get so close he can see their brown warmth.

"You let me go on and on, forcing myself to feel something, and make it work, and you knew he was using me, cheating on me, making me look like an idiot." Andy says, voice still quiet, throat sore from previous hysterics.

"I didn't want to get involved!" He says, beginning to see why his logic failed her. How he let her down. How he let her think there was something she was doing wrong.

"You call this 'not getting involved'?" She answers, a little louder.

They both think back to last night and how great it had finally felt. Giving into what they wanted, being selfish. But then he thinks that he could've prevented this. He shouldn't have let things go this far without some honesty on his part.

"Look, I made a mistake." He says, realizing that he truly was wrong.

She turns back away from him, and opens the door. There's no more hesitation than a minutes, and then she's through, and heading for the stairs.

The last thing she said,

"Yeah, me too."

And then he was standing there alone. Half naked, and a diamond bracelet under his coffee table.

* * *

The days that follow are kind of a blur. Since Andy's pushed him away, he doesn't feel much like working the case anymore. The next morning Boyd's back again, this time an empty duffle bag for Sam. Says that his hunch isn't enough to keep them on. Peck has to make budget cuts and they're all getting the boot, despite how close they may have come. He packs his personal things and leaves the apartment, not even looking back.

He calls Andy a few times. Tells her that she doesn't have to worry about running into him at the laundromat anymore, because he's disappearing. Letting her live her life the way she wants to... without him.

He goes back to work quickly, not wanting to waste away at his house, missing her from his bed. Missing her laugh, her perfume, her smile. The perfect fit of her body up against his in the morning.

It was only one morning, but it was perfect. Up until Brennan... then Boyd.

It was the best and worst of his life.

Anyway, he goes back to the streets, stuck with a rotation of partnering with Oliver or the desk until Boyko says otherwise. He can tell Sam isn't quite over how the case ended, doesn't trust him not to rip off one of the rookies heads.

Sam doesn't notice Tommy in the division halls upon his return. He later finds out that his 'problem' got much worse that he was asked to retired. Oliver filled him in over coffee during shift last week.

* * *

Everything just feels so different now. Everything feels unfamiliar, like time moved forward while he was gone, but he was still hung up. And it wasn't all Andy, though that weighed the most heavily on his conscience. Most pressingly was the fact that he felt unsettled about how he was taken from the case so abruptly. How he'd been on the brink, and then vanished.

He doesn't get the same rush from solving a case or riding with his friends. He doesn't feel like going to the Penny after shift, not even to drown his sorrows. Something about Tommy McNally makes him feel like he'd be letting Andy down.

He can't even stand to do his own laundry. The smell of detergent makes him think of her.

The night he gets so distracted and washes his sheets pink, he nearly calls her one last time. He hangs up on the third ring.

She feels like she's stuck in slow motion over the next few days. She spends a few days on her laptop, hunting for a job, and eventually she finds herself browsing the TPS website. She scrolls through the entire thing, wondering constantly about Sam and her dad... about the plans she had. If that was the path she even want to go down anymore.

She could be like Sam, lying to people for a living, so long that moral grey areas become your life. Eventually having to lie to those you love and put your life in danger.

She could end up like her father. Seeing all the demons of the world, watching innocent people get hurt no matter what you do. Feeling that everything good in the world will be over taken with the bad.

Two men that she trusts, despite everything they've put her through. Two good men, who had sacrificed themselves for the brotherhood of the service.

"Dad. Do you know a Sam Swarek?" She asks one morning at breakfast. She'd decided to stay with him for a little while. Give Jason space to get his things from her apartment and clear out of her life.

"Yeah, he was a third year transfer to fifteen not too long ago. Why Kiddo?" He asks, slightly annoyed with the conversation, wishing for silence for his pounding head.

"Could you tell me about him?" She wonders, not worrying about an answer to her fathers' question.

Tommy sighs, and takes a swig of the wonderfully brewed coffee before clearing his throat.

"Uh, good rookie from what I heard. Showed a lot of promise .He was kind of a UC prodigy." He says, raking his memory for anything that he thinks she might find interesting. "Was working a damn important case when I left. They said he might bust Anton Hill."

Andy had Googled the name during her job search and hadn't found a whole heck of a lot. But she figures criminals wouldn't do too well with a Wikipedia page.

"So he's involved in..." Andy fishes, hoping her dad doesn't ask her yet again what the curiosity is for.

"You name it, he's got a hand in it." Tommy rises, stacking their plates and finishing the conversation with his actions. He's never liked bringing his work into Andy's world. "Look Kiddo, it's not right talking shop with you. You have nothing to worry about with your old man around. I've got your back little girl."

He leans over to kiss her on the forehead before he walks away, and she sits there stewing. Yeah, maybe she's safe now. But why does she feel like a walking target?

* * *

She turns the key in her apartment door a few hours later, having spent some time watching the Leafs game with her dad, making sure he didn't have anything to drink during their last dinner.

She tossed the mail she grabbed on her way up onto her counter before moving to the fridge to open up a new bottle of white wine. While she read the addresses of different senders, she poured her wine slowly, and imagined slipping into her bath in twenty to thirty minutes. Allow herself to wind back down.

Looking around the living room, she spots her yoga mat rolled up by the TV. Long forgotten months ago after she started running with Shawn.

Damn it. Sam.

She never believed in peace-of-mind-Namaste crap they talk about in yoga, but if ever she was going to have it, tonight would be a convenient time.

She takes a sip of her wine, deciding to leave her mail for the moment, and mindlessly goes to play her messages while she runs a bath.

_"Hey, Andy." _The first message begins. She immediately recognizes the voice as Jason's and goes to push delete, but something stops her. _"I know I'm the last person you want to talk to, but, we should probably get our stuff back. I don't want this to seem petty, but the bracelet too Andy. It was a mistake, I never should've given it to you when all that was going on. Call me when you can."_

She deletes the message, shaking her head of the memory, when her hand moves to her wrist to remove the bracelet.

She feels nothing. She whips her head down to see her bare wrist, and panics.

_"Andy, it's me again. Look, I know you're ignoring my calls, but I do really need to talk to you so call me back as soon as you can."_

That message ends and suddenly, Sam's words are playing back in her head. Again. But this time, she's really processing the urgent part of what she knew.

_'Duchamp is buying diamonds for his girlfriend. It's embezzled money, I'd bet anything on that.'_

She feels an unravelling in her core, and she falls onto one of the stools, wringing her hands, terrified.

_"Andy, I really, really need you to call me. I fucked up okay? So please, please call me."_

If she could find her voice, she'd do it this second. If she had her voice, and the bracelet. She picks up her phone before she can hear anymore of Jason's messages, and goes to dial Sam's cell. It doesn't ring before a female voice comes on to tell her the number is no longer in service.

Fuck.

She's at a dead end, and he's not even there anymore. How did it only take a week for her life to crumble. And now when she thought she couldn't be in a worse place, she's suddenly gotten in the middle of a drug lords game.

She feels her feet moving back towards the door, and reaching for her purse hanging on her coat rack. If nothing else, 15 division is the safest place for her to be until she can find him.

But just as she's about to open her door there's a knock. As Andy begins to open the door, the person on the other side pushes, causing a collision with her head and the hard wood. She falls back, hard, and her vision slipping, and her consciousness.

The last thing she sees is a dark figure hovering over her groaning body as she tries to cry out for help, but can't seem to.

"Shouldn't have ignored his warnings princess," Is the last thing she hears.

* * *

**A/N 2: Guess I wasn't THAT sorry about the last cliffhanger. Hope you can deal with this one.**


End file.
